


Phantoms: Re dei Fantasmi

by LightsbridgeArts



Series: Phantoms [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Multi, Nico POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightsbridgeArts/pseuds/LightsbridgeArts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A manticore, a satyr, and a trio of Grecian Demigods crash a party. It sounds like a bad joke, but it happened.. and less than a week later, one of the Di Angelo siblings is dead and the other is caught up in a millinia-old grudge match of divine proportions rather than attending the fifth grade. </p>
<p>Being a demigod was supposed to be cool...but how can it when your father is the stoic Lord of the Underworld?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mythomagic used be fun when it wasn't real!

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so it's always pissed me off that Nico's main function in the PJO/HOO books ultimately boils down to plot device and that Bianca got shoved in the refrigerator (it's a trope -_-;)
> 
> That being said, still love the series and Phantoms is my way of imagining what when down on Nico's end in the vast spans of time when he's not on-page, how he knows what he knows, and explore more of he and Bianca's uprooted lives. I'm going to do my best to stick to the canon events in the books, so you'll undoubtedly notice points where Percy is present which will mirror Rick Riordan's writing. As much as they will be from Nico's POV, the dialogue won't (and you can see an example of what I'm talking about in this chapter, when Nico uses his power for the first time). 
> 
> SO! If you haven't got a copy of Titan's Curse and Battle of the Labyrinth, I suggest you at least borrow a copy of them and the Lightening Thief from your local libraries for Percy's perspective on events.
> 
> Re dei Fantasmi (King of Ghosts) covers events from the last bit of Titan's Curse and up to the end of Battle of the Labyrinth. ^w^
> 
> Enjoy!

Two days. 

Two days was all it had taken for what had started out as an awesome half-week to completely turn on end and be... well, the term “nightmare” wasn't nearly a strong enough word.

Dr. Elinor had mentioned something about dissociative amnesia and fugue states, neither of which he understood fully, but he got the gist. It was why he couldn't remember anything before the age of nine and why he had been thoroughly convinced the creatures and characters of his favourite card game, Mythomagic, had been real. Leave it to a ten-year-old to have such an imagination. At least he'd been able to convince her to let him keep the deck he still had in his pocket. 

“So I know they're only real on paper.” 

“That's a good way to look at it.” Dr. Elinor said softly. She was a darker-skinned woman in her late forties, a sad smile stretched permanently across her lips. Jeans and a patterned top of some kind seemed her go-to ensemble, accented with a few bits of kid-made jewelry on her wrists and small gold studs in her ears. It wasn't the typical attire of a psychotherapist but Dr. Elinor worked exclusively with kids so anything formal was apt to put them on edge. The same could be said about the “office” they talked in, full of youth books, some toys and board games, crayons and construction paper. 

He could practically feel Dr. Elinor's hazel eyes staring at him for the rapid heel tapping on the carpet but he ignored it, shuffling his cards. Every so often he would stop and deal out the little bits of paper, needing only a fraction of a glance at the face image to know what pile to sort it out to. A second or three later the entire deck had been sorted and he gathered them up again, renewing his shuffling.

“I called Westover Hall.” 

The twitching and shuffling stopped and he looked up, hopeful. Short, wavy black hair fluffed about his head framing some already prominent cheek bones and faint freckles, a few band-aids patching his olive-toned skin. The boy's lanky frame was all but lost in the layers of donated, miss-matched clothing and the old-fashioned cabby cap he wore made him look a little bit like Oliver Twist. He looked at her with dark eyes of such intensity that Dr. Elinor had to blink and clear her throat, probably in an attempt to remind herself that she wasn't looking into an abyss. 

“I called Westover Hall,” she repeated, “and asked them if they were missing any students.” The sad smile then became just sad. “They didn't have any di Angelo's on their enrolment records... or a Dr. Thorn.” Seeing the start of panic in those dark eyes she continued quickly. “But I'm still waiting to hear back from Missing Persons in Maine.” 

“That's.... that can't be right.” His shoulders slumped further beneath his layers. “We were there a year....I...I have a diorama of the Gettysburg battle outside of the library. Bianca helped me make- did you ask them to check it?! Our names are on it!” 

“Nico, I did.” Dr. Elinor gently pulled her stool a little closer to the edge of the kids table. “I've done my best to prove everything you've told me. You've BEEN there, I'm sure of that, what you've told me of the grounds and the dance a few weeks back are real.... but they've no record of you or Bianca.” 

“Then call them back! Tell them to talk to Dan Harrison, he was in my dorm.. or.. or Tess Richards, she and Bianca were best friends!” Nico began shaking his head, face paling.

“Nico.” 

“No! We were there! It's the Mist, it erased us so no one would come looking! You've got to look harder!”

“Nico, the Mist is something you've made up and you don't remember why yet. It's frustrating, I don't doubt that. I e-mailed them your picture and told them to show it around, see if anyone remembers seeing you.” 

“You wh- you sent them my picture?! The monsters'll...” He took a shaky breath, finally catching hold of himself before he could squeeze his cards so tightly he bent them all beyond use. 

Thankfully Dr. Elinor stayed silent, letting him re-reason it all out. 

Manticores weren’t real. Zombie skeletons weren't real. According to Dr. Elinor they represented something real and Nico had been traumatized to the point he had assigned those real monsters a form that was familiar and better understandable: the monsters of his cards. 

“They're only real on paper.” The boy's voice was a harsh whisper, desperately trying to convince himself of that fact. It had all been so real. The camp, the Stoll brothers and the rest of the Hermes cabin....Percy. Had he even imagined Bianca's death? Was... was she even real? Not being able to find evidence of one kid was merely suspect, but two? No, she was real too.

“Do you want to stop for today, Nico?” She asked after a while. 

Slowly Nico had nodded, starting to shuffle his cards and tap his foot again, eyes on the floor. His head hurt with every attempt to convince himself that none of it had been real. That was what really seemed crazy; the plausible story he was trying to imagine instead. 

He remembered the cold of the Bar Harbour night, the snow, Westover Hall looking almost like something out of a Scooby-Doo episode in which, as a surprising twist, it was a human to take off a mask and reveal a monster. Nico remembered mouthing off as Dr. Thorn insulted Bianca, Percy Jackson somewhat helpless until an invisible Annabeth Chase had tackled him to the ground allowing Thalia Grace and, of all things, a satyr named Grover Underwood to take care of the monster. 

Nico knew he'd be lying if the appearance of a Bell AH-1 SeaCobra attack helicopter hadn't sent a thrill through him, he'd just learned about them the week previously in history class. Seeing one up close, even if it had fired on them, had been an experience.... and so had it subsequently being turned into a flock of ravens. Then there were the immortal Hunters of Artemis, the ones Bianca had chosen to join, leaving him alone. 

There had been the camp in all it's Greek themed glory, white marble buildings with columns, the amphitheatre and stables (with real pegasi!). Supposedly it was a summer camp for the half-mortal children of the Greek gods and goddesses, demigods, half-bloods. Camp Half-Blood. Nico had been in cabin eleven, which was the Hermes Cabin. Anyone unclaimed by their godly parents went there, which meant that it was crowded even without Hermes' claimed kids that actually belonged there, more so in the summer months, he was told. 

That was fine though. Nico had made a few friends, several of which knew how to play Mythomagic and had a few figures and playmats. Rarely did he get beat fairly and Nico knew enough about manipulating cards that he'd called some of the more card-sharky Hermes kids out when he saw a bad shuffle or draw. Snowfall in the camp made it possible for snowball fights and sledding. More than once Nico had come back inside with a bit of frost bite once he'd “lost” his mittens. Camp had been fun for the most part, till the conch horn was blown for mess hall. 

The first meal had been awkward, the concept of scraping some of his food into a big fire as an offering to unseen divinities was certainly different. The kids who had been claimed offered to their godly parent, others prayed for the chance to _be_ claimed, and still others to the various gods and goddesses for other reasons. Nico had stood in line, thinking of what he might say and to whom, until he'd become so flustered that he'd dumped his entire plate in. Whoever his godly parent was, Nico hoped they would claim him, give him a hug and a home. Friends were nice but he was already tired of being on his own and a ward of the state. 

Chiron was one of the head councillors of the camp, he was also a centaur who could stuff himself inside a magic wheelchair and roll around without knocking things over indoors. He taught fairly normal school subjects during the winter months and thankfully he could do so in a way that a kid like Nico, with a fairly severe case of ADHD as he'd been told by Westover, could pay perfect attention if they wanted to.

More than that the course material Chiron used was all ancient Greek, which somehow made reading at a normal pace possible. Nico had always struggled with dyslexia and reading anything in general, which had lead to so many failing marks in his classes. There had even been mention of holding him back or placing him in some “special” class. The only reason he could spout off all his card stats, or any information really, was simply because he'd gotten Bianca to read to him, memorizing things in an effort to keep from seeming slow. At camp he didn't think anything about ducking under his sleeping bag with a flashlight and one of the books. That type of “school” had been pretty fun. So many worlds had opened up to him suddenly it was unreal.... so unreal....

Nico had nearly worked up some courage to try the rock wall and its lava death-traps at one point, maybe then he could talk one of the older kids into giving him some sword lessons before the summer instructors arrived. He had already started learning archery for when Bianca came back. Perhaps he could look like he knew what he was doing when he asked her to the range with him, ask her to give him tips now that she was a Hunter of Artemis. She was probably going to be the best sharp shooter with a bow, Bianca and he were both good on the rifle range at Westover Hall but she never missed.

He'd have to tell her he was sorry too, for being cross that she took the Hunters' vows and left him behind. As much fun as Nico was having, he couldn't help the nagging sensation that something was wrong. 

Dreams had always been weird for him, faces he never recognized and names he didn't know. Sometimes they screamed and other times they whispered things. Bianca had always been the one he came crying to on the bad nights, shaking with every crack of thunder, those nights it seemed she'd had similar dreams but neither of them talked about it. It was understood, whatever “it” was. 

She had stopped him from watching any movies over a PG rating ever since he had watched the 1953 classic: War of the Worlds and then came seeking into the girls' dormitories after a particularly bad nightmare. This time he'd told her he'd dreamed she'd died because a giant robot had squished her. Since the incident with the manticore, Dr. Thorn, Nico's dreams seemed only to get worse. It was more than a robot. It was all those faces, more monsters, more unreal things gnawing and tearing in the night. Sometimes it was just the faces standing slack jawed and still, staring out at nothing and other times there were figures in gold masks. 

“Bianca will come back.” Nico found himself saying to no one in particular. “She'll come back and we'll both be claimed together. That's why we haven't been yet.” 

The night she had left on her quest with Artemis' lieutenant, Zoe, Thalia (Zeus's daughter), and Grover, Percy Jackson had taken the place of another Hunter. He'd promised Nico he'd keep Bianca safe, Percy the hero, Percy the son of Poseidon. Two of the “Big Three's” demigod children on the quest should have been enough to keep her safe.

 

Two days.

 

Nico had awoke on the morning of what would be that first day of the worst days, covered in sweat and his throat raw from a scream that had woken nearly all of the Hermes cabin and probably some of their neighbours too. A few had grabbed weapons, thinking a monster had been stupid enough to sneak in. They settled back down when they saw it was just another camper with nightmares. Nico found it odd that wild dreams like that were commonplace there, less dreams and more like visions. It only made the knot in his stomach grow. 

Something was wrong, too wrong. He'd dreamed of Bianca and the robot again, all but felt the “pop” as something ethereal had separated itself from her and sunk down, down, down, deep within the earth where the faces dwelt, where the gold masks were.

 

Percy had lied.

 

His cabin mates were decent about consoling each other after rude awakenings from dreams, both of the Stoll brothers, Connor and Travis, had offered up a foil package of cookie dough pop-tarts to munch on. The rest avoided giving Nico nasty looks for waking them up so early, which he was thankful for, he guessed. 

Nico had gotten up and wrapped himself in his coat and scarf, pulling his cabby cap snugly down on his head as he headed out for a walk. He shook, managing to finish off the last of the pop-tart and shove the wrapper in his pocket, taking out his cards, beginning to shuffle them as rapidly as possible in the cold.

 

Bianca was alright. Percy promised he'd look out for her. He'd keep his promise, he was a hero, everyone said so.

 

The breakfast horn had blown and once again Nico relinquished the whole of his meal to the offering fire, this time as a desperate plea for Bianca to come back. He prayed as he had every meal since she'd left, to Hermes the god of travellers, that she'd come back safe. Artemis was another he prayed to, and even Hades, pleading that if his dream was real, if Bianca had somehow....died... that he'd just send her back and everything could be alright again. 

Nico found himself at the hearth in the common area as the morning drew on. He'd sat down next to a little girl, roughly his age, who he thought was just another camper, only to find out that she was the goddess of the hearth, Hestia. He'd mumbled, suddenly tongue-tied and embarrassed that he'd asked the child-like goddess if she had a packet of tissues handy. 

Should he bow or something?

 Hestia did have tissues, for some reason, and Nico had promptly blown his nose. It was a strange way to begin a friendship with an even stranger being. The only other Olympian that he'd met had been the camp's director, Dionysus (Mr. D for short) and he was nowhere near as comfortable to be around as Hestia. Nico had tucked the tissue packet into his pocket at her insistence, spending the rest of the morning and early afternoon talking with her. The little goddess apparently couldn't tell him who his godly parent was but she had plenty of other tales of his godly family. 

It pleased Nico to no end to know that Hestia was his aunt and she was so open to talking, unlike the others it seemed. She helped chase away the gnawing loneliness and forget about his dreams. Family, and the coolest part about it all was that even if they were never claimed they still had the camp and Olympians like Hestia who watched over them.

Word had eventually gotten around that Percy and the others were back and Nico had left Hestia with a hug, promising to come back with Bianca. The goddess' warm eyes had softened at that and Hestia had hugged him back, reminding him that she was wherever a healthy hearth burned. 

He'd come into the parlour of what was known as “The Big House” at camp, opening the door of the ping-pong room to see Chiron and Percy and the other heads of the cabins Nico hadn't had the chance of meeting yet, save for the Stoll brothers. Annabeth was there and Nico had grinned, happy that Percy could stop worrying about her now. There weren’t any Hunters in their silver coats around. Nico remembered asking where his sister was and the looks everyone gave each other as Percy had stood up.

Out of everyone his look was the saddest. 

 

“We need to talk,” he'd said.

 

Those four words were rarely followed by anything good and even before Percy had told him about Bianca, Nico knew.

 

But.... Percy had promised. Heroes kept their promises.

 

The older boy's words hardly made it past the rushing sound in Nico's ears, his fumbling attempts to say how he had tried but there had been nothing he could do. As if in mockery, Percy had even placed a little Mythomagic figurine of Hades in his hands, telling him Bianca had wanted him to have it.

Nico had just stared at it and then up at Percy.

“You promised you would protect her.” Nico's voice had suddenly sounded frail and he knew he was starting to choke up. He kept waiting for Bianca to come out of hiding somewhere, anywhere, and start apologizing for scaring him to death but she never did. The rush in Nico's ears got louder and louder, less like the sound of rushing blood and more like the mutterings of an outraged crowd. Voices, every single one of them with Bianca's name on their unseen lips. 

_How dare the Son of Poseidon_ , other voices screeched, _We told you, we told you!_  

The morning he'd made Percy promise, the voices had been there, woke him up and told him to go with Bianca, keep her safe. Nico had known the moment he'd been caught sneaking around that Percy was the better one to protect her. He had an invisibility cap, could do cool and heroic things with water. He'd a reputation around the whole camp for being the hero for one reason or another, stopping the gods from fighting, bringing the Golden Fleece to heal the barriers of the camp. He was a hero and had been claimed by Poseidon, one of the Big Three. There Nico had been, unclaimed and only ten, hardly able to even shoot a bow properly let let alone with any demigod powers, yet the voices told him Percy wouldn't protect Bianca. 

The voices, Nico had thought, just didn't like Percy. 

“I tried, but Bianca gave herself up to save the rest of us. I told her not to but she-” Percy's excuse only made it worse. How dare he put the blame on her? Nico knew Bianca, she stepped up when no one else would. She'd stepped in because Percy wouldn't... the coward. 

“I shouldn't have trusted you, you LIED to me. My nightmares were right!” His voice had cracked and with a glance to his hand, he'd thrown the pewter figurine across the floor of the mess hall, screaming “I HATE you!” at it. 

Nico could almost see the Lord of Death's face amongst the grey and slack-jawed faces he knew belonged to the voices. He could see the god looking on over the gold-masked judges, all eyes on Bianca. The Fields of Asphodel. Nico didn't know how he knew Bianca was on the edge of that place, but he did. Every fibre of Nico's being told him she was down there, far beneath the earth where it was quiet and still and dark. Scared. 

“She might be alive.” 

Percy's words had been reaching but Nico knew the truth and he had said as much, telling Percy he could feel her in the Fields being evaluated. The older boy had only looked at him like he'd grown a second head and the rattling sound of bones crawling up from the earth suddenly took his attention. 

Spartus, skeleton warriors Nico recognized from his card game but at the time the name had escaped him. Each of the four that had appeared looked at them with yellow eyes full of hunger, grinning wickedly. 

_Leading us here, half-blood?_ Nico could hear them cackling in a clickity-clack way, the language of the ancient Greeks tumbling forth from them. _Our summoner will be pleased when we bring him so many heads!_  

One of them had looked to Nico with a transparent head cocked to one side. _A second Death-child._ It had muttered to the others, harsh voice stuck somewhere between a warning and as if he were a prize. All Nico could think about was Bianca and that this was all Percy's fault too somehow. 

_Perhaps you should come willingly, little prince._ The four had their physical attention on fighting Percy but their voices were another matter. _Last of his living children. The rumours were true, how has he hid you... for so long?_  

“No!” Nico had tried to stop listening to them, to Percy yelling at him to run away. Skeletons didn't talk, they just didn't. He heard them even through his hands over his ears. 

_Come now, Death-child, the orders of our summoner do not extend to our true master's brood._  

“NO!” Something in him had snapped and Nico felt heavy, like he'd grown roots long enough to touch the bedrock and any twitch he made would have sent the earth heaving any way he wanted. “ _Go away!_ ” He heard his voice split like the ground opening up before him, the spartus suddenly all paying very close attention to him. 

The fissure had snapped shut with a crunch, the skeletons gone in a flash of flames. Percy had managed to tumble to the side and remained unharmed except for what the skeletons had managed. He had looked up at Nico with that same open-mouthed stare from before, only this time Nico was sure he was staring at him like a pit viper. It didn't take a genius to reason out in the silence that whoever his godly parent was he'd gained gifts that allowed him to talk to evil skeletons and open up pits into hell. The Greek pantheon was large enough that Nico suspected he was the son of some obscure evil god or goddess. No wonder they'd not cared enough to claim him.

“How did you-” Percy was blinking owlishly, and Nico knew it was only a matter of time before he stated the obvious. 

“Go away!” Nico found himself screaming again, only this time no fissure opened up to swallow up the older boy. This was not how he wanted to find out about his heritage and it was all Percy' fault, again. 

He'd lead the spartus in, let Bianca die, left him more alone than he'd ever felt before because once everyone knew what he'd done they were bound to hate him for one reason or another. Death-child, that was what the skeletons had said. 

His body shook, tears coursing down reddened cheeks. “I hate you! I wish you were dead!” Perhaps then none of this would have happened, he could have walked into the Big House and taken Bianca to meet Hestia like he'd promised. They could have been happy. 

Nico had bolted a moment later, heading for the woods, wanting to get as far away from the camp and Percy as he could. 

He had made it as far as Zeus' Fist, a rock formation he knew from a game of capture the flag, hoping to hide out there for a while until he could figure out what to do next. Whatever cave he had ducked into he was later sure hadn't been there before and Nico had nearly broken his neck stepping out into empty space. He'd lain there on the ground for a while, looking up at the circle of light above. No, not a cave, a tunnel, complete with a ladder back up. 

Good, Nico had thought dully, it was warmer there and no one would find him for a while. The darkness felt welcoming and it was such a relief after everything else. He could hear Percy calling after him.... and then the rocks slowly slid closed, blocking out the light.

It was dark and still and quiet except for Nico's sobs until his body had quietly said _enough,_ giving in to sleep.

 

There were no dreams this time.

 

\- - -

That first worst day had blurred into the next with equal despair. He would have thought none of it had happened had he not still been in the tunnel when he awoke. Try as he might, Nico couldn't find the ladder back up.

What he wouldn't give to be able to see in the dark. Still, the darkness was comfortable and he didn't feel like he was in any danger as one might expect. It took him a while to realize that he _could_ vaguely tell where he was going and it was pointless to shuffle about like a mummy. 

A sad laugh had escaped him at the absurdity of it all, feeling his stomach wrench in hunger. No breakfast... or lunch... honestly Nico wasn't sure how long he'd slept, it had to be after dinner by now.

Rather than “seeing” with his eyes it was like the darkness was a part of him. He could feel it hazily slipping around the tunnel's many surfaces and turns and realized with a jolt of panic that he was nowhere near a ladder of any sort or a side tunnel that led upwards.

Nico turned around, hoping that he'd just walked a little too far for his new darkness sense to find the ladder. Nope. 

There had to be another way out, these must have been access tunnels underneath the camp for various things. Nico just hoped he wouldn't stumble into whatever tubes supplied the lava to the rock wall, that would be a mess.

 

\- - -

“Hey!” A nasally voice shouted almost right in his ear. The shove came a moment after and Nico tumbled off the stone hearth, flopping onto the linoleum. Squinting at the florescent lights above him it took a moment to remember that he wasn't where he'd imagined he'd been.

A tall and freckle-faced kid named Jamie Thomson stood over him, grinning wickedly with crooked teeth. “Heh, _now_ the freak's listening!” Jamie looked about him like he expected to be congratulated for punching a ten year old. No one was really paying attention, some moving further away, they knew the adults were bound to see a fight and break it up. 

"Talking to the fireplace again?” he'd hissed, eyeing one of the adults who was shooting them a warning glare. Nico had drawn his arms around his head, unmoving. Jamie had chuckled, nudging his ribs a bit with the side of his dirty sneaker. “Hm? Can't talk with real people can you, freak? Only a matter of time till they call the paddy waggon, tick-tock!” 

Nico was still on the floor until he heard the other boy chuckle and walk off. His shoulder ached but other than that he knew he was fine physically. Jamie had made a game out of torturing him, trying to get him to fight back or say something, anything. 

He pushed himself upright, curly hair a mess now that his hat had fallen off, and looked to the fireplace. Old. Unused. There was a plastic panel with a fire and some logs printed on it and a flickering set of red and yellow lights behind that. Hestia would have undoubtedly been shaking her head, nothing about this place was home. Maybe that was why he didn't see her. 

Nico retrieved his hat and tugged it on, pulling his coat tighter around him until he thought he could smell the faintest scent of pine. 

Dr. Elinor had suggested that what little he remembered of himself had been garbled up with fantasy, and that was alright so long as he could tell what was reality and what wasn't. She had said he'd eventually remember things as they really happened and Nico tried to. He really did. 

He tried to remember what he'd been doing in Las Vagas, the nameless lawyer, how he knew about Westover Hall, what the camp was really called... how Bianca had really died. Maybe he was really just orphaned and he had made up the story about being related to an Olympian just to feel worth something... maybe he was imagining being the son of some evil being because his real parents were mean. The way Dr. Elinor spoke it was as if everything really just meant something else and that was comforting as much as it was infuriating. 

Needing to get out of the rec room Nico shoved his hands into his pockets, fingers tightening around his cards and a packet of tissues, and headed down towards the kitchen. 

Whether it was true or not, he recalled wandering in the dark tunnels for what felt like forever before finding an exit of some kind. He'd come out of a broom closet in a basement and it definitely wasn't Camp Half-blood, Long Island, or even Narnia. The security cops patrolling the courthouse in West Valley City, Utah, hadn't really known what to do with him when they found him. Nico had been at the hospital for a while, asked a bunch of questions by the police about the usual who's and what's, and the moment the stories about godly beings and monsters got out they'd put him on the psych watch. Thankfully they'd deemed him sane enough after a while, just confused, and shipped him to a nearby Salt Lake City youth centre that had a psychologist on staff.

“Specializing in various forms of adolescent PTSD.” They had said.

Dr. Elinor was honestly wonderful, not anything like he'd expected, and the Carter Memorial Youth Centre thankfully wasn't a place with padded walls. Nico was free to leave the building if he wanted, so long as he told reception where he was going and when he'd be back. Staying on the grounds was the only real restriction (he was ten, after all) but there was a little library he often went to. It was quiet there, he didn't have to worry about Jamie Thomson, and there were plenty of picture books. The kitchens were another place he liked to frequent.

Nico had been staying at Carter Memorial for the past month, so far as he knew, and knew pretty much every staff member by name even if he hadn't yet felt the will to be sociable with many of them yet. He was working on that as well as sorting out his memories. 

“Santa Mãe!”

Jaco and his mother Cintia Dantes volunteered to run the kitchens every Thursday, which meant mouth-watering Portuguese dishes. They ran Caseiras, a local restaurant showcasing family recipes that Nico was sure warranted an award of some kind.

“O que é isso?” Mrs Dantes stepped around the corner when she'd heard Jaco's startled yelp and the clatter of a few plastic dishes. “Ah! Bebê Nico, how are you doing today?” She was on the short side and had a bit of arthritis in one knee that caused her to limp. The plumpness in her face caused her eyes to crease up in the same way Bianca's had. More than once Nico wondered if they could have been related somehow, Cintia Dantes had the same fluffy black hair too.

Jaco had calmed down enough to chuckle and sigh, “I really need to get you a bell, kid.” Jaco was a male version of his mother in his face, though he was built like a footballer and had a streak of blond hair running back from his left temple (Nico doubted it was natural but he couldn't be sure), a few scars peppered here and there. Honestly Jaco could have been a sports star or a model and Nico felt embarrassed to even think of mentioning it.

“Sorry, and ah... fine, Senhorita Dantes.” He was already picking up the dropped plates when Jaco had joined him. The man had just waved off the sorry, thanking him for helping pick up. He playfully warned Nico to make some noise next time.

“Were you out this afternoon? I didn't see you at lunch.” Mrs Dantes moved to the walk-in, peeking inside to see if they needed anything for supper later. 

Nico shook his head. “Sleeping.” 

“Oh, bebê, you shouldn't sleep so long and you shouldn't skip meals. You're already looking twiggy!” She pursed her lips and then held up a kitchen knife after a bit of thought. “Well that settles it, let me make you something quick, I have just the thing in mind!” She chuckled to herself at that. 

Nico didn't have the heart to tell her “sleeping” for him meant hours of trying to get a quick nap. He just couldn't sleep fully any more.... those voices. It took all he had just to keep them quiet and he didn't dare tell Dr. Elinor or he really might get thrown into a paddy waggon like Jamie said. Nico wanted to believe he was just confused, not crazy. He caught his reflection in one of the cooking pots and had to admit he did look sickly and pale, dark circles starting to flair like bruises beneath his wide eyes. Maybe he should at least tell her about the not sleeping part, he'd heard people could get delusional without sleep and that was probably what was wrong. 

He nodded to the surprise, not having a preference. Mrs Dantes wasn't one to settle for making ham and cheese and there was always something homey about her tenancy to shove Mediterranean flavors into everything.

Jaco chuckled, nodding to his backpack hanging by the door. “I got some fresh pastéis de nata in a tin over there if you want to try something sweet. Lemon and vanilla, they all look the same so it's a gamble.” He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves so he could get started on washing the dropped dishes again.

Nico smiled at that, “Yes please.” He wouldn't say no to sweets. “Which pocket?”

“Front.”

“Thank you.” Nico opened the front pocket of Jaco's backpack, standing on tiptoe in an attempt to see inside before he'd given up and took the bag down. Two tins glinted up at him, one a matte purple and the other a shiny Christmas one with snowmen. He was about to ask which tin held which flavor before he shrugged and picked out the purple one, not feeling in a holiday mood.

The smell was simply divine and Nico plopped one of the pale squares whole into his mouth. Vanilla or lemon? He was prepared for either but not the earthy, bitter-sweet taste of what he swore were dark chocolate-covered coffee beans. Nico blinked, cheeks puffed out, staring at the other squares wondering just how many he dared eat before it was considered rude. The taste reminded him of... something, it was on the edge of his memory, warm and bright. Something before the rest of his memories dropped off the face of the world.

“These are really good!” Nico hummed, munching on another, slower this time, trying to remember through the flavor. The squares were easily the size of a jumbo cookie.

“Hehe, sì, sì, Nico. Meu avô, my grandfather, he taught me the recipe.” He chuckled, head waving back and forth and Jaco tapped his feet a bit, he was weird like that some times, but it was always a happy kind of funny. 

“Hmmm.” Nico had nodded, munching on the corner of a fourth as he put the tin away. “I'm going to have to find a way to pay you for a tin or two.”

Jaco shook his head. “Nah, you can have the whole thing, tin and all, just help me with dinner setup. 

Nico had nodded, taking the purple tin out again, square clenched between his teeth as he took another bite. “Both tins or just one?”

Jaco blinked in confusion, “Both?” His eyes had suddenly gone wide and he'd turned just as Mrs Dantes came back into the sink room, dropping the plate with a shriek.

Of the two, she'd reached him first and Nico had to dodge a bit as the woman nearly gouged out his eyes in an attempt to get her fingers in his mouth.

“Cuspi-la! Cuspi-la!” Nico was pretty sure it meant “spit” or something from her actions, Portuguese had a lot of familiarity to it and he could understand most words, but not completely. To be honest, English sometimes felt clumsy.

The tin had gone clattering across the floor and Jaco looked like he was about to have a panic attack. Mrs Dantes had pulled away with a fist full of the treat oozing through her fingers.

Nico had somehow managed to wriggle away, looking back at the two of them, Jaco side-stepping around his mother to try and catch him.

The man suddenly wasn't looking down at him any more but up at the counters and at the wildly flickering florescent lights. Nico had to be seeing things again, the shadows were moving in ways that shouldn't have been caused by flickering. Fruits and vegetables on the counters were rotting and wilting, lettuce turning brown and brittle. He could see the faces again, hear their whispers louder and louder until he could hear words cracking sharply in his ears.

_Strike first!_

Heart trying to knock itself out of his chest, the world had suddenly felt slow, so highly detailed that Nico could see all of that, knew where the shadows touched that he could find an escape if he needed. He could see the hanging threads on the seams of Mrs Dantes' chef's coat and the frightened look in her eyes. Nico could count ten bars under Jaco's S.P.Q.R. tattoo, normally covered by his right sleeve, and the soap suds floating about the deep sink, the pull-down water sprayer swinging like a pendulum. He could see the kitchen knives in a plastic crate and knew he could get to them before Jaco took another step.

_Strike first!_

A strangled whimper came from Nico's throat and he'd bolted, not for the knives but for the door, diving through the stainless steal legs of a kitchen table and sending the cooking pots scattering across the sepia tiles. He slipped twice on his way into the cafeteria, the second time knocking down chairs stacked on the tables. Jaco was still behind him, Nico couldn't see it but the shadows told him so. The voices began laughing and Nico knew why: the cafeteria lights were off and the windows were on the wrong side of the room for the sun to shine in. He just wanted to get away.

“Nico! Nico stop!” Jaco was yelling behind him, getting closer. “I need to talk to you!”

The shadows swirled.

The reappearance of light was blinding and he could barely make out the nearby Seven-Eleven sign. Carter Memorial's low brick wall still stood between Nico and the street so he knew he hadn't left the grounds, he was out side of the cafeteria now and that made absolutely no sense. 

Had he blacked out?

His face felt cold from the late winter wind, a few cars honked horns impatiently at the intersection and somewhere behind him the dull klaxon of the emergency exit door was going off. A voice was yelling but it wasn't any of the harsh whispers he'd heard before. Jaco.

Nico's whole body felt numb and useless, blackness was creeping into the corners of his vision like he'd stood too quickly. The world had tipped sideways a moment later, head resting against the frosted ground, and Nico watched the slow blackening of the sparse grasses around him. He was... making it die? No, he couldn't be. That was crazy. He was crazy, that was it. Nico hoped he was because that was only slightly better than really being the son of some Death god or goddess, to having the nightmares and monsters be real.

Bit by bit Nico felt like he was falling out of the world. 

Jaco had made it to his side and knelt down, putting fingers to his neck. He'd yelled something in Portuguese to his mother at the fire exit door and Nico watched as Jaco picked his limp body up, running with it back inside.

That was impossible, he was still standing....outside.

 


	2. Everyone has their boiling point, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so a forewarning... Jamie is a racist and bigoted little asshole. As his writer I want to apologize up front to everyone who is offended by a few of the things he says this chapter, and if you aren't you should be.

The world came back in the form of a grey hospital room, monitor beeping steadily by the bedside. He was alive at least. Somehow that was surprising.

Thankfully no one was in the room to see his face when he realized he was in a hospital gown and what he was certain was a pair of pull-ups. The monitor beeps spiked momentarily as Nico tried to think how long he might have been unconscious for.

Nico forced himself upright, mindful of the wires running over him and the i.v. line taped to his hand. A tray had been left beside the bed and he found a couple of thick granola bars and a few other things there that wouldn't be spoiled if left at room temperature, including a bottle of water. Parched and starving, Nico didn't pay much attention to the aches in his chest until he was finished.

Wincing, he pulled back the collar of the gown only to see where his skin was blistered and slick in a perfect, fist-sized oval.

“The adhesive in the AED was apparently bad.”

Nico jumped, looking towards the woman in the doorway. Green scrubs, comfortable sneakers, lab coat, bun, and all the other trimmings that went along with being a doctor. He noticed the University of Utah Health Care logo on the lab coat and reasoned that was where he was. Her sudden appearance was likely due to the monitors as well.

“AED?”

The doctor nodded, pushing a bit of black hair from her face before going for an ear thermometer tucked into one of endless pockets. “Automated External Defibrillator. You know those machines in the movies with the paddles? The ones they rub together and then say 'clear!' if someone's heart stops?” The woman made a goofy antic of the scenario and smiled.

Nico's mind halted a moment until the doctor got him to turn his head, taking his temperature with a click. “Yes, well, the big machines are just called Defibs for short, the AEDs are portable-” She put the ear thermometer in her pocket and pulled out a little flashlight, starting to run through a few simple tests, “-and the Heath and Safety Department requires them in public buildings. They save a lot of lives, yours being one of them even if they left a mark. Bet there's a note placed somewhere that the one used on you caused burns.” She wrote some things on her clipboard. “I'll give you something to stop any scaring... needed you awake first.”

“But...” Nico blinked, the beeping getting faster again.

“Your heart stopped... and you probably want to avoid getting worked up for a while, just to be on the safe side.” She smiled softly and Nico tried to calm down.

“I'm Dr. Andrea Heartfelt.” She smirked some. “Ironic but hey, I can't complain, I'll be taking care of you this evening. I see you've had a chance to enjoy the lovely granola bars, next is some hot food... hospital food, ugh, I know, but it's better than nothing. Mac and cheese I think, sound good?”

“N-...Nico..... Nico di Angelo.” He'd nodded sluggishly and again found himself looking around the room.

Dr. Heartfelt looked back at the chart. “Happy birthday by the way, Nico, I doubt this was where you wanted to spend it but I can see about some cake... cupcake at the least.”

“Hm?”

“It's January twenty-eighth.” She pointed to a dry-erase board that had a big birthday cake drawn in blue and green markers. Nico could only assume the rest was hospital notes, the letters looked like they were playing musical chairs. His head hurt.

“I... I've been asleep n-nine days?”

Dr Heartfelt nodded and set the clipboard down, taking a plastic medicine cup and bottle out of her pockets. “Yup, off and on. You gave us quite the scare after what Dantes told us. He'll probably be by later this evening to see how you're doing. Dr. Elinor is here managing some of her paperwork so I'll tell her you're up if you'd like?”

Nico felt his gut wrench, his hands shaking. He'd have to tell Dr. Elinor about the voices, how they'd told him to take the knife and hurt Jaco. He was crazy... homicidal even.... he deserved to be taken away.

“Hey hey, easy now. Drink up, this'll help some.” She handed him the cup half filled with an amber liquid and Nico drank without a second thought. He soon blinked and looked down at it disbelievingly.

“Doesn’t taste like medicine, does it?” Dr. Heartfelt smiled as Nico shook his head. She stepped back a moment and closed the door.

“Egg custard.” Nico looked at her. “The... the iced kind!” He looked back at the cup, wondering if he might be able to find a cough syrup that tasted that good next time he needed some. The liquid had been slightly warm too, when he'd felt it, but in his mouth it still left a pleasant chill.

“Mhmm.” She pulled out the ear thermometer again and took his temperature once more. “Ninety-six two, to ninety-eight on the button.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, looking a bit awed but pleased.

“What?”

Dr. Heartfelt smiled. “You wouldn't happen to be coming or going from Sonoma Valley, would you?”

Nico shook his head.

“Oh.” Her face had fallen a bit and she again had looked down at his chart, not that there was much there, just what Dr. Elinor had written since he had been at Carter Memorial.

“I... I honestly can't remember.... things.... not correctly anyways.” Nico had lain back down, suddenly not feeling up to talking.

The doctor shrugged. “Well do you remember what happened before you woke up here?”

Nico was quiet.

“Jaco already told me everything, I just want to hear it from you.... Nico?” Dr. Heartfelt clearly belonged in pediatrics, even down to the silver unicorn and rainbow pins on her lab coat, but Nico was convinced he was in the adult wing. Normally there were cartoons painted on the walls in the kid part. She leaned over, tilting her head until she was parallel with his gaze. “You were eating puff pastries and... Jaco's mom started screaming?” She pushed softly.

“There was something in those things, wasn't there?” Nico felt his eyes water a bit. “I.... I think I started... started seeing things.” He shook his head. “None of it was real.”

The doctor shook her head. “It _was_ real, Nico.”

He looked at her.

Dr. Heartfelt nodded. “It was real. Jaco and his mom both saw it. The shadows moved, the lights went crazy, food spoiled.... you... somehow moved yourself outside.” She swallowed a bit at that and Nico could tell she was a little fearful. It really happened?

Nico sat up, now interested in the thick weave of the hospital blanket.

“We weren't quite sure until Jaco counted the ambrosia squares. You ate four of them... well, three and a half, three big ones, Nico. Most can't get through half of one at that size without getting feverish and just now you took an ounce of pure nectar and your temperature hardly spiked at all.” She nodded. “Seriously, Nico... I've done observations on this kind of thing. With your size, what you just took should have sent you to about a hundred and three and the amount of ambrosia you ate.....even higher, possibly killed you. Do you have any idea what that means?”

“I... I didn't... I was...it's not... it's not real....”

“Nico... Nico, mortals can't even take a taste without burning up on the spot, that's why they were freaking out. They thought you were going to just... you know? Spontaneously combust.”

He shook his head. Not again. Nico put his hands over his ears, shuttering, but Dr. Heartfelt reached up and gently took hold of him, squeezing his hands in as much comfort as she could muster.

“You're not imagining things, Nico, do you understand? You're not. Whatever you've been through already... it happened just as you remember it.” Nico looked up at her. “Really... and unless you can deal with that you'll be dead. _Aut vincere aut mori._ Understand?”

_Aut vincere aut mori._ “Conquer or die....” he remembered it being a popular saying among some the staff at Westover Hall. Maybe she was an alumni.

“Exactly.” She pointed to his chest. “And if you still don't believe me, take a look at your burns. They'll be gone now.”

Nico hesitantly pushed aside his collar, no longer feeling the aches he had before. His hands still shook but when he looked down there were no burns at all.

“Told you there wouldn't be any scars, didn't I?” Dr. Heartfelt winked, standing to take care of the obnoxious monitors and untangle him from all the wires and tubes.

Nico was quiet for a long while, wincing a bit as the i.v. was removed. The adhesive left that same stickiness band-aids did and he picked at it, still processing the information.

“So.....Jaco... and Senhorita Dantes are both...... demigods?” Nico looked up and watched as Dr. Heartfelt organized the wires, tossing contaminants in the bio-hazard can. A part of him wished she would laugh at him and tell him she was just joking, that he was having a mental breakdown.

“Jaco is, from my cohort actually, but his mother is mortal. He's a son of Mercury.” She chuckled. “We all called him Flash when we were younger, after the superhero, you know? These days he's more of a Dante.”

“From the Divine Comedy?”

Dr. Heartfelt nodded. “Big traveller, he is, at least until he came home to help his mother with the restaurant.... and to be near his sweetheart. No manic pixy dream-girl jokes, please.”

Nico thought he could hear a bit of frustration in her voice and wondered if she was making another play on words.

“And you're a demigod too?”

Dr. Heartfelt nodded, pulling up her right sleeve to show him a tattoo like Jaco's. Hers had the same ten bars and letters, though instead of having a planetary mercury symbol, there was a lyre.

“Well, not exactly, I'm a legacy of Apollo, not his child directly. Both of us spent our ten years in the service, chose to make lives outside.” She smiled and rolled her sleeve back down. “You'll learn all about it when you meet Lupa.”

Nico remembered the history lesson from back at Westover Hall. Roman history had been a requirement as part of any military education, thankfully he'd been able to pay attention in that class since it was mostly lecture. “That's the wolf that took care of Romulus and Remus, after they washed up from the Tiber river.... right?”

Dr. Heartfelt again nodded grinning ear to ear. “Yup, and she's a tough teacher too.” She pursed her lips. “Meaning this fear you've got? You better learn to get past it or else she'll gobble you up.” The doctor was deathly serious, of course this went beyond what seriousness a doctor normally was.

Nico swallowed. “But-”

“No buts about it, Nico. You've got powerful gifts starting to show up and it's only a matter of time till Lupa sends one of her wolves to fetch you. Maybe that's why Jaco and I came across you, who knows.”

Nico's brows had creased and he again studied the blanket. “M-my power... was killing the grass... making things rot and.... and the shadows.... the voices....”

Dr. Heartfelt's face had softened and she put a hand on his thin shoulder. “Nico, I don't know who your parentage is or who you might be a legacy of, but from everything I've heard of you, you're a sweet kid dealing with bad luck all around. Get your feet under you and get control. Turn your bad luck into the bad luck of every foe you face. Prove yourself worthy to be claimed.”

Nico looked up at her in hesitation but Dr. Heartfelt was sincere. She seemed to understand his fear but wanted to see him past it. A knock on the door drew both of their attentions a moment and Dr. Heartfelt looked back to him.

“Remember that it's all real, Nico, you're not crazy... but mortals can't see what we see, they can't understand it so the Mist makes things easy on them. Dr. Elinor is doing right by mortal standards, but she's never treated a demigod.” She dug in her pocket and handed Nico a business card with Latin on one side and the S.P.Q.R. insignia on the other, Dr. Hearfelt's signature written in red. “Keep that safe, and whenever you make it to the camp, show it to the praetors and tell them Andrea Heartfelt stands for you.”

She stood, heading for the door. “Jaco can tell you a little more when you see him, but do your best to keep things quiet for now, alright?”

Nico was about to ask her what Camp-Halfblood's address was but Dr. Heartfelt opened the door to Dr. Elinor.

“Hey! I was about to call you, everything checks out, Tula, he's lucky to be alive but he's like some kind of bouncy ball, isn't that right, Nico?” Dr. Heartfelt stepped back with her clip board and started making a few notes as Dr. Elinor laughed.

“How are you feeling, Nico?”

Nico again blinked, looking to Dr. Heartfelt a moment. “Still... still not sure about what happened.”

Dr. Elinor nodded, smile faltering a little. “That's alright, Nico.” She patted his arm. “An outlet shorted out in the kitchen. You were electrocuted.”

\- - -

 

Jaco hadn't shown up that night and the next morning Dr. Elinor had brought him a change of clothes. They weren't his but at least they were his size this time.

It took an hour or so to get signed out and Nico spent the ride back to Carter Memorial shuffling his cards nervously slouched in the front seat of the van. He imagined Bianca in the back, telling him to sit up straight and, when he'd started fiddling with the radio, to stop doing that too.

Everything had been real?

Honestly it felt like a weight had lifted itself from his shoulders. Nico kept checking the card Dr. Heartfelt had given him, half expecting it to look like a normal business card now but the Roman letters and laurel leaves embossed in gold, the Latin, her signature, it was all still there.

Nico tuned over various stations, through the metal and rock and ear-numbing pop, before settling on a station playing a song he knew. Bianca had played the record until she'd worn it smooth and Nico knew he'd never be able to get it out of his head, but that was alright. It reminded him of Bianca and he when everything was normal, for the most part. He hummed along for a while, quietly mumbling the lyrics and hoping Dr. Elinor didn't mind too much.

“Nico?” He stopped, but Dr. Elinor continued. “You know Ella Fitzgerald?”

Nico looked up over the dash at the cars crossing the street in front of them, the turn signal clicking with the same annoyance the hospital monitors had. “Yes ma'am. Uh.. never met her in person, but Bianca had most of her records.”

“English or a translation?”

He looked over, a bit confused.

“I think you were just singing _A-tisket, A-tasket_ in Italian.”

Nico thought but he couldn't remember anything but the lyrics sounding funny. “Both? Maybe?” He slouched down deeper into his seat, face pink.

The van made a left turn and Dr. Elinor was quiet for a while, lips pursed in that way she had when she was thinking about crosswords in the cafeteria.

“I think I need to make a few more calls...” she mused out loud.

Nico jumped, hearing a triumphant laugh from the back seat, but when he turned around there was no one there.

\- - -

 

Supper that night was tacos in a bag and canned pineapple, a weird combination if ever there was one, but Nico was hungry enough that he ate it. Jaco hadn't shown up yet and all Nico could think was they must have been having a busy night at the restaurant or some other emergency. He shoved an extra bag of Fritos and gummies into his pocket, taking his juice box with him to the rec room hearth.

Someone had put a movie on and turned out enough of the lights so that all the kids piled on around on the furniture wouldn't complain about glare. Nico's mouth watered a little at the smell of the popcorn but first-thing's-first.

“Hey, Hestia.” Nico smiled as he sat down, trying to imagine there was a real fire there. “I brought you some gummies, or Fritos, whichever you like. The rest is for everyone else, sorry I couldn't sneak another taco out.” He leaned in and set the little offerings behind the plastic panel and lights. “I.... I wanted to thank you for sending Jaco and Dr. Heartfelt, I know you had something to do with that.”

The whisperings started again and for a moment Nico thought Hestia might have been trying to speak, at least until he was yanked backwards by his hair and thrown to the floor.

“Oooooo! Sounds like somebody's in looooove!”

Jamie Thomson stood over him triumphantly, looking down at him like he wanted to squish the smaller boy beneath his sneaker. The sound had gotten the attention of some of the kids by the TV, ones more inclined to watch them now that there wasn't an adult around. Bathroom, probably.

Nico had curled into a ball, just waiting for Jamie to go away, until he heard the scrape of the plastic panel and saw the older boy come away with the bags of snacks.

“That's not for you!” Nico started to get up but Jamie stepped backwards and planted his foot under Nico's armpit, pinning him to the floor by his jacket.

“Oh no?” Jamie feigned a shocked face and then sneered, popping open the bag. “Stealing for that beaner-dishwasher?I'd have thought Poncho would've been here for taco day.”

The gears in Nico's head stopped a moment and somewhere he heard a few grossly astonished gasps and giggles.

“Huh, fairy-boy?” Jamie's foot kicked his ribs before settling back down on Nico's coat, hard enough to make a point but not enough to really hurt... yet. He had taken a half-handful of the chips and shoved them in his mouth, chewing so that little bits and pieces came tumbling down to scatter over Nico. “Maybe he likes burritos...” 

Jamie had laughed again, looking up to his little goon-squad of an audience, arms out wide like a prize-fighter. He looked back down at Nico and crumpled the chips in the bag, turning it over so that they cascaded down in his face, followed soon by the bag. 

Nico wasn't sure what snapped first, him or Jamie's knee.

How dare he?

How _dare_ he!

It was one thing to defile his offering to the gods, but Jamie had crossed a line when he'd insulted Jaco.

Nico's leg had come up, shin connecting solidly with the back of Jamie's knee and the smaller boy had rolled outward, twisting out of his coat as Jamie came crashing down with a yelp. Nico was on him in an instant, screaming curses at him in every language he knew.

Some of the other kids had jeered, few staying back to hide on the couch. The others were ready for a fight, knowing if the adults came back now they were all on the hook anyways. Three plowed into Nico and one little curly-haired kid took a cheap shot at Jamie while he was down, probably another of his victims.

He wasn't strong but for his size Nico was able to pack a punch, knocking someone's teeth in. He lost his breath a moment later from someone else landing a blow to his gut but he refused to collapse even as he was shoved into the hearth.

“Where is he? You're dead freak! You hear me? Dead!”

Nico's head flopped back, cracking against stone. It should have split his scalp but to Nico it only felt like he'd bonked his head against a tumbling mat in the gym. He saw Jamie's snaggle-toothed scowl, the youth limping towards him in fury and Nico found he wanted more than anything to just strangle the life out of him.

How dare he.

The lights flickered overhead, TV falling into static.

How _dare_ he.

Many of the kids had started screaming and Nico felt a terrible sort of satisfaction in knowing he could do _exactly_ as he imagined. The shadows flitted around the room like hounds eagerly pulling on their leashes, all Nico had to do was let them go.

Whatever the others saw through the Mist it had sent them running, tripping over chairs and card tables. Nico watched Jamie's expression fall into absolute panic and fear, taking glee in being able to see it all happening so slowly it was utterly surreal.

_Just let them go._

That was all, right? Let the shadows go. Pay him back for everything ten fold over!

_Nico, let them go! Let them go, you're hurting them!_

Bianca?

Nico blinked, in the slow spaces between heartbeats he could see her. Bianca and her floppy, green cap, full and puffy cheeks, dark eyes sharp as daggers. Bianca and that sad frown she had when he was throwing a tantrum, dark brows creased in such a maternal way that Nico imagined she had every bit of their mother in her.

_Just let them go._

“Bianca....”

The world came crashing back to normal speed, sounds high-pitched and noisy as children were. Jamie's terrified expression shifted back as he shook himself from whatever state of fear Nico had forced him into.

He would have done it. He'd almost done it.

Jamie's fist connected with the side of his face and Nico didn't bother to move out of the way. Jamie's weight and shoulder came next, hand grabbing a fistful of his hair again and knocking him repeatedly against the wall.

He really was evil, wasn't he?

Nico refused to fight back against Jamie's assault. The power that had flitted through him had made killing the other boy too simple of a task. He'd almost done it to Percy too, almost sent him into that hellish pit with the spartus.

If he was _meant_ to be evil.. then he was a coward.

“That's enough!”

He saw Bianca for a second longer, slightly out of focus and smiling sadly, and then she was gone. Jamie was gone too, yanked back by the adult that had come back from wherever they'd been. Nico didn't know their name, they must have been new.

The other kids were busy shouting about how the fight had started and where they were, all of which contradicted and confused, muddled with everyone's bruises and scrapes, till the point the phrase “no deserts” had been uttered and there was a collective whine.

“You, sit.” The man had ordered, pointing to Jamie and his limp. “I'll come back for you later.”

Nico imagined he looked quite a sight, he could feel his nose and lip bleeding, left eye starting to swell a little. The adult's hand on his shoulder was pointed and tight and Nico barely had time to grab his cap and jacket as he was shuffled off. No doubt he'd be brought to either the nurse-station or one of the administrators' offices for a scolding. Neither he wanted to deal with.

All of his attention had been on the surreal realization that he'd come very close to killing someone, so much so that he'd missed when the adult had turned left rather than right at the staircase.

“Nico?”

The man stopped when Dr. Elinor called out for him and Nico felt the adult's hand tighten on his shoulder painfully. The two of them had turned and Nico looked up from the floor.

“Oh, sweetie, what happened?!” She came over at a slight jog, leaving a man she seemed to have been escorting through the building.

“A fight in the rec room, taking him to the nurse station.” The adult had explained.

Mutely he listened to Dr. Elinor explain to the volunteer that the nurse station was the other way, but Nico was more interested in the man she'd been escorting.

He was tall, lean and muscular with eyes like amber and black hair flowing past his shoulders. He was nowhere near as dark as Dr. Elinor was, bronze or teak if he had to compare, but his face was just as pronounced and chiseled. The man wore a long black duster over a suit and tie, an umbrella acting a bit like a cane under the circumstances. Nico couldn't remember if the weather called for it outside yet.

The hand on his shoulder had again tightened and Nico frowned, looking up at the volunteer who was holding onto him, about to tell him to let go already.

“-called the Italian consulate on a hunch,” Dr. Elinor was telling Nico, but he was only partially listening. The man who held him was anything but human. His skin had turned the sickly blue-black shade of an old bruise, fingers long and gnarled ending in yellow talons. How had he not been impaled by those yet?

Dr. Elinor was carrying on her conversation completely ignorant of the danger and the way the hollow pits where the monster's eyes should have been seemed to flit from each of them to the man in the duster jacket.

“-Nicholas.”

Nico had blinked, the monster's hand off his shoulder now but the creature still stood by, still debating his chances it seemed.

“Huh?”

“Nicholas di Angelo.” Dr. Elinor smiled sweetly and put a hand on his shoulder, her touch far more welcomed than the monster's but she was leading him to the man in the duster and Nico wasn't sure how he felt about that yet.

“It never occurred to me that 'Nico' was a nickname or that you might not be a U.S. citizen. I'm so sorry, Nico, this is all my fault.”

“N-no, it's not.... Dr. Elinor....” Nico had looked away for just a moment but now the monster-man was gone and Dr. Elinor didn't seem to notice that either. “I... I didn't know to tell you.” He blinked, a bit confused.

The Nico-Nicholas name really hadn't occurred to him but now he could remember dreading hearing his full name in instances where he'd been in trouble and thinking “Nicholas” was a way too grown-up name for a kid to have. Bianca had also been relentless at teasing him when the Ricola cough-drop ads had come out, tooting “Nichoooooooolaaaaaasssss” every chance she could.

“I like Nico better though.” He tried to smile, like nothing was wrong, but one look up at the man in the duster and he couldn't help but shutter a bit. He knew him, he was sure of it, but the where and whens escaped him. He'd also just scared away a monster without a fight and Nico thought he could see black feathers peeking out from the bottom edge of the man's coat.

“Nico, this is Mr. Morte, the consulate sent him to collect you on behalf of your parents.”

Dr. Elinor must have taken his stunned silence to be just that, but she couldn't see what he could.

Wings of shimmering black and blue-violet rested behind Mr. Morte, his duster a cloak of liquid shadows and the umbrella a massive scythe with a midnight blade.

Nico gulped.

Morte, _Death,_ had come to collect him.

 


	3. The trouble with brothers is.... they're trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww, time to leave Utah... for a while... on to California!

Death drove a tour bus.

Dr. Elinor's reaction had been roughly that of Nico's as she walked him out to the parking lot, Mr. Morte using his scythe-umbrella to ward away the light sleet starting to fall in the few feet of space beyond the covered walk-way.

Sleek, with a black and grey paint job, the tour bus itself was a fairly standard Prevost (and about the size of a school bus, albeit somewhat taller). Nico was reminded of Apollo's bus and wondered if they'd be flying too. He knew better this time than to ask if he could drive, Death didn't look as ready to indulge in a child's whimsical fantasies. 

“I do transportation for the consulate.” Was his only explanation, and he'd shrugged.

Nico stood in the door of the tour bus with his backpack, watching as Dr. Elinor handed over copies of his files, all bright and cheery. He hoped she'd catch the look of fear on his face, especially when Death had waved good bye with a “see you later” directed at her.

“Alright, little angels, time to go.” Mr. Morte had shooed him inside and the door slid closed with an ominous hiss.

Nico wasn't quite sure what he expected inside, skulls, maybe. There should have been Halloween decorations for sure but all he saw was... well, a camper interior. Death placed his scythe-umbrella in a holder near the driver's seat and started the engine, once again looking like a man in a duster and not a dark-winged angel. He checked something on a blackberry, mumbling to himself about holes, then sighed. 

“Anyone living, please buckle up, dead, your choice.... same for you, Hypnos.” 

Someone was sleeping in one of the wall bunks near the front of the bus. The man looked like Mr. Morte's twin, rolled up in blankets and his own wings, soundly asleep even while mumbling something.

“Up here.” Mr. Morte indicated the seat beside himself for Nico and the boy took one last look at Hypnos before hopping up and clicking his buckle snug, backpack dropped at his feet.

The strange assortment had pulled out of Carter Memorial and made it down the road a little ways until Nico found his voice.

“So.... is this a reaping... or.... a claiming?”

Mr. Morte looked over at Nico, amber eyes glinting a bit in the light of the instrument panel. “Neither.”

Nico's feet still couldn't touch the floor, dangling helplessly a few inches above it. “The monster?”

“You're better off not knowing.” There was a twitch in his lip and Nico had a suspicion Mr. Morte was absolutely right.

“Um.. Mr. Mo-”

“Thanatos, actually, god of peaceful death.” Anticipating Nico's next question he continued. “Not the skeletal reaper on your card, I know, mortals have little imagination when it comes to thinking of what Death looks like.” He chuckled. “This form fails to get quite so many screams, don't you think?” 

Nico paled a little but nodded promptly. 

“My brother, Hypnos,” Thanatos indicated the man in the back, “god of sleep.”

The other god waved a sleepy hand when mentioned.

“You were saying?” Thanatos prompted.

“Oh, right... um... I.. ugh... are you my f-father?”

Thanatos let out a warm laugh and shook his head. “I'm flattered, really! But no.”

The boy's face had fallen a little but there was still some relief. He didn't know how he'd react to being a son of Thanatos. The earlier Death-child comments still got to him and Nico was about to ask when Thanatos again beat him to his question.

“I work for your father, but that's not why I'm here.” 

“My-”

 “Hades. He'll introduce himself when we get back to the Underworld and explain the details surrounding your particular situation...and his.” 

“H... Hades....”

“Yes, Hades. Now I have a few more stops to make but we'll make the gates before morning.”

“Hades.... like... HADES, five-thousand attack points PLUS retaliation attacks, Helmet of Darkness and invisibility bonus... THAT Hades?!” 

Thanatos' spatial awareness was, well, godly, otherwise he might have plowed into a few dozen cars moving through the intersection when he'd looked over at Nico. Their light had been red but that seemed a sudden and trivial detail considering Death was staring him down.

“No, Hades Lord of the Underworld, ruler of the dead and all which dwells beneath the earth, last and greatest Judge.”

Nico's face had paled considerably as the weight of who his father was finally hit home, his powers making at least the smallest semblance of sense now.

“...I'm the son of Satan....”

Hypnos had burst out into guffaws in the back and Thanatos had just sighed, suddenly putting on the breaks. Nico flopped forward, straining against his seat belt for a moment before flopping back into the foam.

“First off, no.” Thanatos spoke over his brother's laughter, “Secondly, _why_ is everyone equating the underworld and ruling the dead and shadows and... and ME, to all this talk of Satan and evil things, hm? Tell me that.”

It was fairly amazing how the barest flicker of genuine confusion across his stoic face suddenly made Thanatos more human. 

“...Um....”

“Darkness was in the beginning, Light came from that and so did everything else, then everything dies or fades, and mortals have the nerve, the _gall_ to associate both with evil? Really, am I missing something, Hypnos? Most mortals bury their dead under the ground or cremate them these days, don't they?”

Hypnos' laughter had trailed away to snores and the occasional snort. Thanatos had then merely rubbed the bridge of his nose, brows creasing with the ache of an unanswered question. 

“Come on, Hypnos, this is our stop.” Thanatos had turned off the engine and grabbed his umbrella, reaching back to tap at the sleeping cubby with it. He turned to the boy. “Nico, don't leave the bus.”  

“But-” Nico looked out the window, half expecting to still be on the highway. Somehow the tour bus had stopped at a slightly wooded area in the parking lot of a nursing home. Few lights were still on at this hour. His dark eyes had widened and he'd slumped in his seat a moment, dumbfounded, before struggling to undo his buckle.

“No!” Nico scrambled to get in front of the door, arms out wide to stop the two winged brothers. “You can't! They're... they're people's family!”

“Step aside, boy.” Hypnos had yawned, having watery blue eyes, unlike his brother.

“What if they're the only one somebody's got?!”

“Stay on the bus, Nico.” Thanatos had pointed to the front seat but the boy refused to move. 

“No! This isn't fair!”

“Death isn't fair to the living, no.” The winged god made a gesture with his hand and the shadows had surrounded Nico in a living coil, lifting him out of the way and plopping him back down in the front seat. “Stay on the bus, make sure the spirits stay put too. That's your quest tonight.” 

“If you go in there I won't do it! I'll let them out!”

Hypnos just laughed at the idle threat and Thanatos sighed. “Fine. Bianca, you keep everyone inside then.” With that the door had closed with a quiet hiss.

“...Bianca?” Nico had all but whimpered after a moment, looking back into the dark and unoccupied cavity of the rest of the tour bus.

There was nothing out of the ordinary beyond the sleeping cubbies. One side of the bus had a wall table and some booth seating with a vase of poppies looking perky, a few cabinets. The other side had a couch and the basics of a kitchenette. Further back, the bus narrowed from what was presumably a bathroom and closet. The windows had short, white curtains with Grecian patterning, a little flat screen TV was bolted to the only available free space on the wall and a tiny green, butterfly nightlight flickered at the very back.

The whole place smelled a little like the cheap pine air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror.

“Bianca?” Nico's voice hitched. 

She wasn't there. She was dead, already in the.... Underworld.

Nico drew his knees to his chest, wrapping himself up in his coat. He was going to the Underworld and Bianca was already there, somewhere. All he could think of it being was that cavernous place from Disney's Hercules and James Woods voicing Hades. James Woods was his father and he had a head full of fire and wicked-sharp teeth. Maybe right now the Muses were doing a musical number and he just couldn't hear them.

No, he could hear them, only they sounded like Duke Ellington singing _It Don't Mean a Thing_.

Nico looked up, face hot and sticky, to see the radio had turned on and the peppy jazz number playing softly from it. He turned up the volume, just a little, vaguely recalling he and Bianca trying to figure out how to dance to it when neither of them had any coordination what so ever.

_Silly._

His gaze had wandered to his left, the word “silly” not sounding exactly physical, but he had been sure he'd heard it. Nothing.

_You danced all over my toes._

Nico covered his ears, trying to ignore the whispers again, especially now that the loudest one sounded like Bianca.

_Nico? Hey, Niiiiiichooooolaaaaassss, are you listening?_

The volume on the radio had turned all the way up on its own accord and then back down again and this time Nico had been able to see a faint flicker of light like a hand had just been there.

It couldn't be real.

“Bianca?”

He heard her giggle and thought he felt her ruffle up the hair just under his cap.

“Bianca, are you... are you here? Really here?!”

Nico had stood with his breath coming in short gasps, that feeling of moving faster than the world making the music deepen and slow.

Bianca was there, just like at Carter Memorial. She looked at him with that same sad smile, green wool cap pulled slightly to one side and she wore her silver Hunter's jacket.

_Thought you weren't ever going to look up._

Bianca's mouth didn't move much and her other motions seemed hazy, like she were nothing more than smoke.

Nico half expected to pass right through her, throwing himself towards her with a strangled cry. He'd connected with something that felt like cold jello and Bianca grabbed onto him the second he was there. It was strange though, the more he remembered of her, the more he “felt” for her, the more solid she looked and sounded. 

“You're here!” 

“Yeah. I'm... I'm so sorry, Nico, I-” Bianca was almost as choked up as he was, if ghosts could cry, but she'd snapped her head up and looked to the back. “Don't even think about it!” Nico knew that mother-tone of hers, that grown-up way she pointed her finger at the ground. “Thanatos put me in charge!” 

Nico pulled back a bit, wiping the tears and snot from his face as he looked towards the back. Nothing.

“Who's there?”

Bianca huffed and looked back at Nico, once again near tears. “Oh, um... yeah, you can't see them yet can you?” She'd pulled him close, resting her chin on top of his head. “Just the other spirits. Thanatos or Hermes picks them up when it's their time... hmhm, and occasionally, like now, he brings along his brother to make the stubborn ones fall asleep quietly.”

He sniffed. “It's not fair. You're just a kid, kids don't die.. they... they don't get s-....” Nico couldn't finish the thought and Bianca gave him a squeeze. “H-he was a coward..... Percy s-should have saved you he-”

“Couldn't do anything. Even if he tried.” Bianca kissed his forehead and tilted his chin up. “It was...my time... and it was fair.”

Nico shook his head. 

Bianca scrunched her lips up into one corner and knelt down, taking Nico's hands in hers. “I snuck out of the Underworld because I knew you were in trouble, that you needed me, but this isn't a second chance. We only get one, understand?” 

Bianca had hugged him a moment later. “Now come on, Nico. I need some help from my soldatino.” My little soldier. She'd called him that ever since he'd tried out for Westover's drill team. He'd been too squirmy and unable to keep from grinning like a fool, too scrawny to fit in any of the uniforms.

Nico didn't want the moment to end, he had her back. Even if she was a ghost he had her back. Maybe, with their father being Hades, he could bring her fully back if Nico asked nicely enough?

Bianca had turned him around to face the back of the empty bus. “Ok, now here's what you got to do first. See them. Sooo... .hmmm... how do I explain this, um....” She was purposefully rambling, trying to take his mind off of the thoughts rampaging in his head. “Ok, ok, ok, I got it. You remember that funny video clip Rick showed us in mess hall that one time? The Peter Pan stage performance where the guy playing Peter was running around and clapping?”

“Yeah, I think so.... didn't he fall off the stage?”

“Not the point. Remember he was trying to get people to clap to prove they believed in fairies and bring Tinkerbell back to life?” 

Nico nodded, briefly wondering if Jamie Thomson had called him “fairy-boy” because he believed in “magic beings” like Hestia. Maybe he just wanted him to fall off the stage too.

“Ok, so same rule. The more you believe in ghosts the better you can see them. Like me!” Bianca grinned widely.

“How did you figure this stuff out, B?” 

Bianca shrugged. “I'll tell you later, right now, we've got these guys to keep on the bus till Thanatos and Hypnos get back.” She made a now infamous _I'm watching you_ gesture and pointed towards the back of the bus.

All he had to do was believe in ghosts? That was easy, Bianca was... she was a ghost. He believed in her existence. Nico pursed his lips some, frowning a bit when “trying” wasn't so easy as it sounded. He closed his swollen eye and even went so far as to stick out his tongue in the effort. 

Nico sighed, shoulders slumping. 

“Hey, you'll get it soon, don't get bummed out.” Bianca shrugged and tapped her fingers together, chin still resting on her little brother's shoulder. “Hmm... ok, new plan.” She circled both of her hands and placed them together like a pair of make-believe binoculars. “Ghost binos. You'll see them now.”

Nico looked at her flatly. “Really?”

“You're silly, just try them, I promise they'll work.”

He was still sceptical but he'd leaned into her hands just to humour her, eyes widening a few seconds later.

“This is... THIS IS SO COOL!!”  

Bianca had “turned over” the ghost binos to Nico, putting her hands on her hips. The pint-sized boy had gaped for a while at how much different the tour bus looked through the imaginary lenses.

The death bus looked more like the inside of a greyhound rather than a comfy mobile home. Triple rows of seats lined either side of the isle at a distance thrice that of where the physical back of the bus was. People of all sorts were sitting around, some bored, some excited, some complaining. Nico realized that some of them where the source of the whispering he heard and he could make out what they were saying if he focused in.

_-grandson was always visiting. Never saw him much after that._  

_I forgot to water my flowers, I hope my neighbour stops by soon.”_

_“This Springfield yet?_ Hey, I think my Grammy is in there! Think I can go see her?”

“-special day-pass, meeting my love tonight. It's been years, I can't wait to see her again.”

The binoculars had turned to a monocular by the time Thanatos and his brother had returned with a handful of new passengers. A few looked a bit shocked but mostly the lot looked blissful. 

Nico thought it was strange that the dead weren't really complaining about being dead or trying to “escape” like he'd thought Thanatos had implied. He and Bianca were mainly trying to keep them from leaving to visit people they wanted to see. It was cruel in a way, but necessary. He wondered just how many heart attacks people might have had if their loved ones appeared before them... how many people would think they were crazy.

Bianca and Nico had moved out of the way when the new batch of spirits boarded, giggling a bit at the mini romance scene that played out between the couple who'd promised to meet up again.  

“This is SO cool!” Nico had laughed again, pressing both hands to his eyes still and trying to take them away with the same expectation of seeing the ghosts. A few times he'd managed to see for a few seconds longer but he knew he could do it at will soon if he kept practising. 

“Learning to see finally?” Hypnos had ask with another yawn, slipping back into his bunk.

Bianca had ruffled Nico's hair as he'd hopped into the front seat again. “He's a fast learner.”

The compliment had made him grin. “So why do I see some of them as....um.... as skeletons or see-through? Bianca is solid.”

“The Spectral Veil.” Thanatos said, turning the engine back on. He left the radio alone. “It's similar to the Mist but the Veil covers the ethereal rather than the physical.” 

“Huh?”

“He means ghosts and phantoms, stuff like that, not monsters.” Bianca clarified.

“Oh, okay...”

“Yes, well the Spectral Veil is many layers deep. Some ghosts and spirits sink deeper into it than others, thus the various conditions you see them in. It's common for mortals to see through the first few layers on occasion but you need to be a child of the Underworld to see further.”

“Why?” Nico bit the inside of his lip, still giddy from finding Bianca again and learning of a power that wasn't so scary.

Thanatos glanced over at him as they pulled out of the parking lot. “That, Son of Hades, is a question I can't answer. The Veil behaves differently for each person able to see through it but the general idea is that the familiar is clearest.”

Nico held up his imaginary lens and looked at the ghosts aboard then back to Thanatos with a more reserved expression.

“I'm sorry.... for before, I mean.” He snuggled down into his coat a little, glancing to Bianca, just to be certain he could still see her, that this was still real. 

Thanatos was silent.

“Death comes for everyone... and...” It was fair? No, not to the living who were left. It was like keeping the dead on a tour bus driven by two godly brothers, a ghost girl, and a scrawny death demigod who could barely touch the floor from his seat. Awkward, cruel, but necessary. “Everyone...and anyone.”

His voice had cracked a little. He understood what Bianca had said a little better. Death did not discriminate, it was probably the only force that was absolutely unbiased. Perhaps that was why people feared it? It didn't choose sides. It didn't prefer or make exceptions. 

“You're right.” Nico looked up but Thanatos was addressing Bianca. “He _is_ a fast learner.”

\- - -

 

The day's events had drained Nico and somewhere between stops he'd fallen asleep against the window. 

“Alright, everyone off.” 

Nico groaned a bit, feeling like he'd slept in a u-bend. Rubbing the back of his neck he looked out the window to see a pink glow on the horizon. “Hmm?” He yawned and stretched, slipping off his seat after watching the ghosts get off and file into a building. “We're in the Underworld now?” 

Bianca giggled, ruffling up his hair again. “Nah, just Los Angeles.” She waited till he'd woken up a little more, repeating herself. 

“Woah, L.A.? Really?” He looked out the front window at the streets and could see the Santa Monica Mountains looking dark in the distance, smell the salty air of the sea somewhere nearby. Something about those mountains was familiar in the same way Thanatos had felt familiar, like he'd seen them before.  

“The Underworld Gates are here.” Bianca explained, pointing to where the ghosts were being directed to.

He turned, expecting to see the Los Angeles Cathedral. It would have made a funny kind of sense to him even if he had been Catholic (he didn't think he was anyways). A low building with a tiled roof stood there instead. It was covered in pale stucco and flanked by Grecian columns and palm trees, over a set of glass doors hung a square of black marble inlaid with gold letters. 

“D.O.A. .....recording.....studios.” Nico blinked, having had to read it several times just to ensure his dyslexia wasn't acting up. The painted lettering near the door read: No solicitors, no loitering, no living. “...That's messed up.”

“Meh.” Bianca shrugged, plopping Nico's cap on his head. “Charon's the one who came up with the label. Twisted sense of humour, that one.”

“The ferryman?” He'd always pronounced it like chair-on rather than care-on like Bianca just had. 

She nodded and started walking with the other ghosts to the doors, Thanatos holding them open for the group.

“Alright, little angels, this is as far as I go.” The two had stepped inside and Thanatos stuck his head in. “Live one, Charon, he needs a visitor's pass and the next boat in.”  

“Five minutes! You couldn't have waited five minutes before you pulled in here again?!” Charon shouted over a dull roar of voices in the DOA lobby. 

Nico looked back at Thanatos for an answer to his sudden question but the god and his bus were already gone. 

“Gods can be many places at once, Nico.” Bianca said next to his ear.

He shrugged, situating his backpack better over his shoulders and looked about the room, having to hold his hands up over his ears fairly soon. Too many people were talking at once and the whole place was overcrowded. Everything was a dark and steely grey except for pots of pencil cacti shoved into the corners, even the furniture was a dark hue of some sort. 

This situation had happened before, hadn't it? Not specificity the DOA lobby but another, bigger, lobby. People had been yelling there too, pushing and shoving. Nico didn't think he'd ever heard so many languages in one spot, all drowned out from time to time by the cacophonous blare of a ship's horn that rattled his bones.  

“Alright! Anyone paying with credit and debit, line up here! Last-rights billing over there! No way to pay? PARK IT on the couches, you're on standby!” Charon shouted. 

Nico had jumped, finally focusing in on Charon. The being wore a white, silk suit with a silver name plate and black rose pined to the lapel. A set of Hollywood-styled sunglasses were shoved on top of the being's head. That was fairly normal, but the rest of Charon seemed hazy. Nico wasn't quite sure what the rest of the ferryman was and he guessed it had something to do with the Spectral Veil and just how thin the thing was at this spot.Charon was a skeleton beneath the clothing at some points and at other times appeared as a woman or a man of varying ethnicities and ages, even the tone of voice and cadence of speech shifted so that each language spilling forth from Charon (all at once, Nico realized) seemed practised for the customers' convenience. 

“You two!” Charon had pointed a bony finger at them and then down at an empty space beside the security podium. The ferryman's language of choice this time was Italian. “Trying to make me look bad, eh, little godling?” Charon eyed Bianca.

“S'not her fault.” Nico had grabbed his sister's arm, looking Charon dead in those hollowed eyes.

Charon didn't flinch. “Oh?”

“Nico.” Bianca had squeezed his hand back.

“No, it's not, Charon, she-”

“Mr.” Charon interrupted.

Nico blinked. “Huh?”

Charon tapped the silver name tag. “Mr. Charon, little godling, Mr.”

“He's sorry, Mr. Charon, my brother is still kind of... green.” Bianca had again squeezed Nico's hand and he wanted to tell her to stop and that no one talked down to his sister. She caught the look and gave one of her own.

“Brother, eh?” Charon had briefly taken on the appearance of young, darkly tanned man with a crewcut and snow white hair, his irises either pitch-black or pupils blown out of proportion. “Oh, well that is something then, isn't it? Brothers always get us into a spot of trouble, don't they?” The ferryman looked to the door as if daring Thanatos to reappear. 

Charon sighed and picked up a little digital camera, aiming it at Nico. “Smile!”

“Wha-” Nico blinked at the brilliant flash that had his vision dancing a moment later.

“Visitor's pass, good for one round-trip.” Charon handed Nico the plastic card with his goofy and unprepared face printed in one corner a few seconds later. “You two go find a place to stand for a while.” Charon still eyed Bianca like a prison guard would eye a prisoner that had returned after a breakout. 

She gave Charon a mock salute and ushered Nico off into a corner, trying to avoid getting bumped into a cactus.

“I look like I just swallowed a lemon.” Nico made a face at the picture.

“Gods, Nico, you're adorable... but you can't go around talking to gods like that. You might offend one.”

Nico's brows knit together fiercely. “So? They're all family, right? I'm not going to let even family talk to you like tha- hey!”

Bianca had pointedly smacked the front of Nico's cap down over his eyes. “Nico, this is serious, okay? There's a lot of other stuff going on and our father has mentioned some of the gods are switching sides.”

“Switching sides? Against who? B, what's going on?” He'd pushed his cap back up and taken out his cards again, trying to lessen a little of his sudden anxiety. “It's the Germans, isn't it?” He remembered that like he remembered the boat horn, like Thanatos, all in fleeting glimpses and intuitions that didn't seem like intuition.

Bianca rubbed the bridge of her nose and knelt down, putting her hands on Nico's shoulders. “Look, this is going to sound crazy, but you've got to believe me on this, alright?”

Nico nodded slowly, knowing the feeling.

“Alright, now follow me here... you remember being in D.C.?”

Nico thought a moment and nodded, more memories beginning to surface and he couldn't, for the life of him, remember when he'd forgot them.

“Remember the election parade? You remember who it was for?”

He thought harder, recalling flashes of bright ticker-tape and cars different than what he saw on the streets where they were now, people shouting slogans. “R.....Roosevelt? I think?”

Bianca nodded. “Right, and the president now?”

“Bush Jr.,he's about to step down soon, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything, Nico.” Bianca had given his shoulders another squeeze. “There were ten other presidents between them.” She was quiet.

Ten? That didn't make sense, the presidents of the United States served four years a term if they weren’tkicked out of office. “That's.... that's forty years at least....”

“Some of them served a second term.... Nico, it's closer to seventy.”

“But....” Bianca wasn't letting go of his shoulders, undoubtedly watching the reactions slipping across his face.

“Zoe helped me see it first, alright? It's... it's impossible, I know, but it all had something to do with that hotel we were at in Las Vagas. The Lotus. It's some... some kind of place time forgets about.” Bianca bit her lip, watching as Nico leaned against the wall and slid down it to sit on the floor. 

“It's ok, Nico.... the lawyer? The one that moved us around and set us up at Westover? She was one of Hades' go-tos. She was keeping us safe.”

“Safe? WHY?! What is going on?!” He'd started shaking and Bianca had sat next to him, holding him close. It wasn't a warm embrace, which only served to unnerve Nico even more.

“Hades won't tell me much, but I think it has something to do with this prophesy Percy and Grover knew about, the Ti-”

“Percy, Percy, PERCY! Always with stupid Percy!” The cards had all slipped from Nico's hands, shadows deepening and shivering around him.

“Oi! No powers, little godling! You're scaring the dead!” Charon warned.

“Nico-”

“NO, Bianca! He should have saved you, he promised he would!” He grabbed onto Bianca so tightly that he'd gone through her. “He defeated monsters all on his own, BIG ones! Sailed through a whole sea of them and came back with everyone alive! He should have brought you back alive!”

“Kid, stop killing my cacti!” Charon had gotten up from the desk and was soon standing over them, pointing at the shriving plants. “What did they ever do to you?”

The ferryman's voice had drawn their attention like a magnet and both glanced to the plants, then the faces of the dead all around the room looking at Nico. Even Bianca seemed fearful as she looked at her ghostly hands. They had taken on a more skeletal look where his touch had gone through her. 

“Nico?” 

Nico had dropped his gaze to the ground, feeling like his blood was freezing in his veins. The whisperings of the dead had all but stopped and Nico felt like they were regarding him as something predatory. Bianca had reached out to touch him but he knew the breakdown of her form would only get worse if she did. He didn't want to loose her again, not now.

Nico flinched away, pushing his hands into his coat.

Charon had sighed, looking around. “I guess I've got enough souls for a trip, come on you two. Boat's waiting and I don't want you bringing my place of operations down around my head... worse than your father, really.” 

 

 


	4. The Ghost King of Crete makes for an interesting tour guide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone leaving kudos! You guys are amazing!

Charon had ushered them into an elevator at the back of the lobby, odd since the building only had one floor, but the down button was more telling. The ferryman swiped a key card and uttered some threat or another to the spirits still in the lobby about not changing his music station. Nico couldn't remember hearing anything over all the people.

The elevator had gone down, then sideways much like the magical elevator from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, only this one was crowded with spirits holding green lift tickets.

“Hold on to that pass, little godling, loose it and you won't get back to the land of the living.” Charon chuckled. The ferryman and the elevator had both changed at some point, looking more like the depictions he was familiar with.

Charon hummed some Cab Calloway and Bianca sat next to Nico, holding his cards.

“Nico, come on... stop being such a baby about this. Look around! We're somewhere no one's really seen before!”

“Ha!” Charon huffed, pushing the boat along.

“Well it's true, I wasn't counting the dead, Mr. Charon!” She set Nico's cards beside him and stood, looking out over the side. “Nico, really, come on, I want you to see this place.”

Bianca held out a hand but Nico never took it, arms still shoved into his jacket.

“Hmm, now what were those stats again? For the River Styx field card?” She smiled some, or at least Nico could hear the smile in her voice, he had his cap pulled low. “Nine rounds on the board... movements halted for non-necro types?”

“You mean there's a game with things like that in it?” Charon mumbled. “Oh, come now, I want to hear this! What foolishness have mortals concocted now?”

Bianca came to Nico again and knelt in front of him. “Nico, if this is about your powers, I know how you must feel. Mine started waking up too during the quest. The whispers? I could feel these... these things that were watching us. They were talking to me.”

“The spartas?” Nico had tentatively reached out for his cards, avoiding contact with Bianca.

She nodded. “I stabbed one and it turned to dust. The others just... ran away from us after that, scared, I think.”

“They followed... they followed _him_ to camp.” Nico looked up at her. “They called me a Death-child.”

“Me too.” Bianca wiped away some of the half-formed tears in his eyes, not letting him flinch away again. “I think it shocked them that people like us had been born... like it's really rare or something. We can ask our father what it's all about when we get to him. Alright?” She pointed off to one side of the boat. “Now go on, silly, and look will you? I'm getting tired of seeing you miss this.”

“Bah, spartas. Make a mess of things.” Charon commented, though Nico barely heard the ferryman.

He'd looked up at what Bianca was grinning over and Nico was sure he'd died too.

They sailed on the River Styx and all its inky depths, the water writhing like some living thing, irked at the bits and pieces of floating garbage. Millions of tiny hands reached up from the bottom and drug the debris down, never to be seen again. The river got a little cleaner the further they went along, their narrow canyon opening up into a cavern large enough to fit a kingdom. The Erebus, the titanic walls of the cavern, stretched far beyond sight in either direction, cracked by bits of light the colour of sour apple jolly ranchers. Poplar trees sprouted from various cracks and crevasses, all decked in fall leaves, much of which were blowing about on a warm wind. Long grasses were changing over from some form of green to a muted tone, growing all the way up to the black, volcanic sand that rimmed the banks of the Styx. Nico had to squint to see just a little of the cavern roof, and even that was covered by a cloud-like fog, a few strange birds flying about.

Nico stepped back and stood on his seat, standing on tiptoe to get a better view, most of it was hidden by the hills along the banks but up ahead was a dock and a really, really long line-up of ghosts. They didn't unsettle him so much as they had and he followed the line with his eyes as it split off in two.

One line went to a black tent and the other to what looked like a tiered highway for foot traffic. Either way the line went through a security checkpoint that rivalled the one at Westover Hall's military games. Nico was already dreading having to wait in line, he didn't have much in the way of patience.

What got his attention next wasn't the gigantic, three-headed rottweiler sniffing about (admittedly cool), but the sprawling city beyond. Some of it was gated, possessing buildings from every country and era of history that Nico knew and many still he didn't, clear blue lakes and islands shimmered with their own light.

“Elysium?” Nico guessed, looking to Bianca.

She smiled and nodded. “Yup, I live there now.” Bianca put her hand on Nico's shoulder before he could say another word. “And yes, I have to go back.... but I'm here, alright?” She ruffled the hair sticking out from under his cap. “Probably going to be in a bit of trouble for sneaking out-”

“Got that right, little missy.” Charon mumbled.

Bianca shot him a look but continued. “So? Worst case scenario is you'll have to meet our father and stepmother on your own first. Think you can handle that, soldatino?” She straightened up his jacket, dusting his shoulders and again trying to wipe at his smudgy face.

Nico squirmed out of her reach, eyes widening. “S-stepmother?” He blinked.

“Lady Persephone.” Bianca looked again to Charon, daring the ferryman to say something else but the spectre kept quiet. “Stick with 'Lord and Lady' when you address them, alright? And try not to fidget so much? Lady Persephone... well, we're not her's, so she's already tense about this whole thing.”

That comment sunk in sharp and fast. They'd been hidden away, hadn't they?

Bianca gently leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Hey... it's going to be alright. She's not some kind of wicked stepmother if that's what you're thinking. Just tense. I said you're adorable, right? I meant it, she'll love you in no time once she gets to know you, so you'd better behave. I don't want to have to come kick some goddess butt!”

The sudden thought of Bianca tackling the “flower queen,” as he knew of Persephone from his Mythomagic cards, suddenly had Nico in a fit of giggles.

“You two godlings are making me nauseous.” Charon huffed, the barge bumping into the dock. The ferryman made quick work of tossing a line to hold the vessel in place. “All ashore! Follow the path please, EZ Death line is to your right, Judgement Pavilion on your left. Have a nice afterlife!”

Bianca and Nico stepped off with the rest of the passengers, waving a good-bye to Charon. Nico wondered if the ferryman even noticed, but the barge was gone in the blink of an eye like Thanatos and his bus.

“That's a thing, isn't it? Big vehicles disappearing?”

Bianca shrugged. “Hey, Aphrodite and Ares showed up on the quest in a big limo... took a taco stand with them when they vanished, too.”

“Our family is weird....”

He wanted to ask what they were like but a couple of Underworld security guards were waiting at the end of the dock for them. Both were dressed in desert military fatigues and carried M-16s.

Bianca's spectral hand tightened around Nico's. “Remember what I said.”

“Bianca di Angelo?” The first ghost had asked. Bianca nodded. “You're to report to the rear of the Judgement Pavilion.”

“I need to take my brother to the palace first.”

The second ghost shook her head. “Orders, but one of the judges is leaving rotation, he can escort the boy.”

Bianca had tensed a little and Nico looked up at her, wondering why. “Can't one of you do it?”

Both ghosts had shaken their heads. “No ma'am, we're stationed here till the end of the month.”

“Please?” Nico asked in the most puppy-dogish way he knew how. “Can't my sister just take me?”

“No.” The first guard parroted the second's earlier statement.

Bianca had tensed again and finally knelt down to be level with Nico. “Looks like you're going to be on your own for a while again, soldatino.” Both of her hands rested on his cheeks and she pressed her forehead against his. “Go introduce yourself to our father. I'll find you again when I can, one last goodbye, I promise. Otherwise stop by the Elysium gates and ask for me before you leave this place, I'll probably be under house arrest.” Bianca giggled at that.

It was a strange way to reassure him but Nico ended up smiling a little and nodding, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Yeah... or maybe I'll... I'll climb over and come see you myself.”

“That's the spirit.” She kissed him and stood, hugging him as tight as she could, just in case it was the last time.

“Gods, the puns down here are horrible.” His voice cracked.

“So? Make up some new ones, don't let Mr. Charon have all the fun.”

For a few minutes more it was like old times. They traded a few bad jokes, laughed. The security guards were good at what they did, didn't crack a smile once, despite Nico's attempts to make them. They had to have been Buckingham Palace guards at one time or maybe enjoyed imitating them.

Nico was left alone at the Judgement Pavilion once someone had come for Bianca. He'd done his part and stayed quiet like she'd asked. With any luck he could ask Hades about bringing her back, he'd win over Persephone too if he had to.

His cards flashed back and forth through his hands and Nico entertained himself with a few shuffling tricks he knew, practising others until he didn't drop the cards as much. He was about to try and find the guards again when the Judge he was waiting for emerged from the pavilion.

He was pallid like ash, short and stocky, black hair plastered to his head in tight curls around a golden circuit of laurel leaves and a spear-shaped beard on his chin. A careless toss of his hand sent a piece of his white robe into a more appealing place and the man had sighed.

“So... you're the living one everyone's been talking about.” He didn't look at Nico.

The boy frowned, managing a bit of a smile soon after. Bianca, think of Bianca coming back.

“Yes... um... Sir.” The Judge may have been short but Nico was still a shrimp in comparison. It always hurt his neck too much to look up at adults.

“Your name?” The Judge looked down at him, studying him, and Nico hoped it was just that mood adults got into after being too long at work.

“Nico.. um...... Nicholas di Angelo. Bianca di Angelo's brother.” He hated using Nicholas but if it made him more adult then he'd use it. “S- son of Hades?” If his full name got him nowhere then maybe that would score points with a ghost.

“Ah, another demigod!” The man chuckled dryly. “King Minos of.. well.. formerly King Minos of Crete, I should say. Son of Zeus, though now I serve a different patron.” He bowed to Nico. “I should say you are rather not what I was expecting for a young master.”

Nico swallowed. “Um... thanks?” He blushed. “I'm... I'm not your master though.”

Minos made a dismissive gesture. “The Ghost King does not lightly call anyone master. You are the only living child of Hades, are you not?”

“Yes?”

“Then you are my young master.”

Nico blinked at that. It did make him important here, didn't it? “What about the others?”

“Others?” Minos had stretched his arms and Nico felt it polite enough to let him savour a few moments after whatever he'd done as a Judge. Maybe he was the one responsible for Bianca staying in Elysium.

“Yes, um.. you said I'm the only _living_ child of Hades. Where are the others? They're ghosts too, right?”

Minos took a moment to answer that, beginning to walk... or float, Nico wasn't sure which. “One or two of them are down there.” He gestured off behind the rest of the pavilion to a flat grey field dotted with a few dead poplar trees, where the EZ Death line lead to. The Fields of Asphodel, Purgatory. “Too timid to amount to anything, too weak.”

Nico shivered. He could see all of the lax faces again, a greyed out sea of hollowed spirits. “And...” He blinked, noticing a few black cows roaming around among the sedentary souls.

“And the rest are way over there, in the Fields of Punishment.” Nico could faintly see a red glow, suddenly shrinking back. As with the Fields of Asphodel, his senses had reached out to touch it, see what it was, but Nico didn't need his senses completely on fire to know that place was hell. He looked up to Minos indignantly, hoping for some kind of explanation.

“No control.” He sighed. “Children of Hades...they have a certain darkness in them.”

“But... Bianca is in-”

“Yes, yes, I know. She died young, there's very little trouble you can get up to at twelve, especially before your powers start really waking up.”

Nico bit his lip, soon taking out his cards to shuffle again.

“Ah, yours are waking up, aren't they?” Minos chuckled good-naturedly. “And at ten too? My, my, that's impressive, you'll be a strong one.”

“I'm eleven.... no.....” He thought back to what Bianca had said. They'd been stuck in time for seventy years, hadn't they? Didn't that make him at least eighty-one? “....no.... ten.....” Great, he hated birthdays. “I just turned eleven though...” He certainly didn't feel like an old man.

Minos just chuckled again, heading through a set of bronze gates and into the city surrounding the palace of Hades. “Well, I suggest finding someone to teach you how to work your powers. We don't need any accidents.”

Nico had stopped. “You mean my father isn't going to teach me?”

The Ghost King stopped and looked back. “He's a major god, one of the Big Three, young master, he works too much managing the Underworld to spare such time training a pint-sized demigod like yourself.”

“But gods can be many places at once.... can't they?”

Minos nodded. “Indeed, now you see the problem? There's a limit. Of all the gods, your father pushes that limit to its furthest.”

Nico swallowed hard, jogging to catch up to Minos. “But if he can't teach me then who is? I don't want to loose control and end up in the Fields of Punishment!”

Minos pulled Nico out of the street, keeping him from getting trampled by a few ghosts leading around horses the colour of charcoal. This was really like a city, now that he thought about it. A city inhabited by ghosts and spirits... monsters? No, they couldn't be monsters, they weren’t attacking anyone. Creatures then, physical beings of the Underworld. Many had wings and took to the cavern sky, some utterly beautiful and others completely twisted. Nico wondered what all of them were called but that was the other thing about the Underworld, wasn't it? Fewer than a handful of people, living people, had ever been there and even then it was only a quick trip, they'd not stayed to _look_ at the place for what it was!

When Nico looked back at Minos, the Ghost King was stroking his beard in thought.

“What?”

Minos shook his head. “Thinking of teachers... or a way to teach you. We can't have a son of Hades remaining a worthless whelp nor can we have him untempered, now can we? It would be a dishonour to your house.”

“Maybe my father could... you know, hint at something?” Nico shrugged hopefully.

Minos again waved a dismissive hand, indicating some of the withering plants and flowers in planters beside them. “No, young master, though that would be the first place to start normally.” He shrugged. “It's the last days of the mortal winter in the world above. Surely you must know what that means.”

Nico thought a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip. “Wait... um... yeah, yeah! It's winter above because Demeter is sad Persephone is down in the Un- oh.... oh.....” Nico had paled a bit.

The Ghost King nodded. “Indeed, the Lord and Lady are likely spending their time in the garden. Disturbing them isn't advisable, even for you, young master. Especially for you.”

Minos had clapped the boy on the back and urged him onwards through the City of the Dead.

“So we're going to the palace anyways?” Nico gulped. “Even if... even if neither of them is going to be in a good mood?” One street had looked like all the others, ghosts, spirits, and creatures all going about Underworld business. Several times Nico thought he passed a minor god or goddess that called this place home but he wasn't going to try and stop to think about all the who's and what's he had no name for. All the buildings were made of onyx and obsidian stones, columns carved with vaguely Grecian designs and motifs. Murals depicting battles, plagues, and natural disasters were everywhere, each tiled with precious and semiprecious stones. Bronze, silver, and gold were used like ordinary building materials and embellishments, along with ivory. The closer to the palace they were getting the larger the gemstones. Nico was pretty sure he'd passed a ruby as big as a volleyball, just laying out in some little patch of grass like an obnoxious garden gnome.

“We're not.”

Nico stepped to the side of the street. “What? You said you were going to take me to the palace!”

Minos sighed heavily and crossed his arms. “I said no such thing, young master, you were told that I would. And I will when it's safe for you to go there.” The Ghost King looked around. “Now, I have a little plan for you to make a good impression. Would you like to hear it?”

Nico shifted from foot to foot, nerves twitching. Bianca was expecting him to go to the palace and meet their father and stepmother, what if she came looking? What if Hades or Persephone burnt him to a crisp just for existing? King Minos was one of the Judges, trusted to do judge-y things and ultimately decide where people's souls went when they died. Clearly he had an in with Hades and Persephone.

“Ok, Mr. Minos... Ghost King... uh... sir...” Nico felt his cheeks flush and he could only guess how red he looked.

“Minos, will do fine.” He gestured for Nico to follow him. “Don't be so timid, young master, if you ever hope to become a mortal Lord of Death.”

More streets soon gave way to the smell of ash and something pleasantly fragrant as they hit an area of the city built out over the river. Nico had momentarily stopped at one of the many bridges, mouth agape, at the rolling landscape beyond. Giant boulders of gold and jade dotted the area, smaller precious stones glittering here and there shaded by pockets of autumn poplars, all giving way to large expanses of ghostly, white asphodel flowers.

Minos called for him to keep up and eventually they came to a workshop run by a number of ebony skeletons. The whole place was sweltering like a normal blacksmith's forge, the source of the ashy smell. Each of the skeletons was operated by a ghost from a little further back, like puppets, so that they could work with whatever metal required the unearthly purple flames.

“Stygian Iron.” Minos explained as Nico shuffled over in a fairly out of the way place. “All the Olympians have their children wielding Celestial Bronze or Imperial Gold, but you, young master... you have a third choice.” The Ghost King pointed to a few rods of metal protruding from the forge.

“Stygian Iron?” Nico guessed. He still had no idea what it was, he knew a little about Celestial Bronze from Camp Half-Blood, that it obliterated monsters and could hurt anyone with god-blood, but wouldn't hurt a mortal. What Imperial Gold was, he had no idea.

“Correct. Now pay attention, this is lesson one, young master.” Minos never took his eyes off the metal. “Stygian Iron is only mined and forged here in the Underworld. It's what keeps the ghosts from getting out... think of it as the skin of Erebus. We don't make much from it except in times of war, and rarely do we make weapons.”

“But if you rarely make weapons then... why make things that aren't weapons for war?” He shuttered, pulling his coat closer around him. The chill came from a vat of inky water pulled from the river below them. An ingenious array of waterwheels and gears turned so that the vat was flowing like the river, filling and draining freely. Nico's gaze had left Minos, trying to figure out how the lift system worked.

“Pay attention.” Minos sounded like the instructors at Westover, it annoyed Nico. “Good question, but pay attention. The forges can make armour and things of that nature, chariots, because they do not have to be bound to anyone, otherwise the metal will shatter like any other blessed metal if stressed too much. To make a true weapon of Stygian Iron requires a more personal touch... as it will share a little of the wielder within it.”

Nico really didn't like the sound of that.

“It is a tool for channelling the power you have, an indestructible weapon capable of striking down spirit, mortal, and immortal alike, taking strength from them, bound solely to you as its creator. Make a weapon like that, young master, and you're one step closer to gaining control and becoming a true Lord.”

“But I don't know how to make weapons...”

Minos again waved him off, “You are a child of the Underworld, once you make the bond you'll cool the metal with water from the Styx.” He indicated the vat. “Your power and soul make the form, that's how you'll forge and that's how we'll take measure of you for the next part of our plan.” Minos nodded matter-of-factly. “Your father will be impressed by this if you succeed, mark my words.”

“I can mess it up?” Nico felt like his stomach was about to hop out of his mouth and dance on the floor.

“Oh yes, if you're weak, you'll be killed by the bonding.... but perhaps that's better than being killed by your father if he finds you're not worth his precious time after all.”

Killed. Minos spoke as if it were a trivial thing and to him it probably was. Nico remembered watching Jaco carry away his body when his heart had stopped outside Carter Memorial. That could probably happen here. He'd be slumped against the vat, lifeless and probably contorted in-

“Isn't there something else I can do?” Nico swallowed, arms closing around himself. “I... I don't want to be a ghost.” He blinked. “Not that there's anything wrong with that, but... you know?” Nico stammered.

Minos scratched his beard in thought, soon shaking his head. “Your father is a warrior, you think it's a coincidence that after the first Titan war, when the Big Three were given their divine symbols of power, that Lord Hades was granted a helmet while his brothers got a trident and a lightening bolt? Weapons?”

The Ghost king lifted a bushy brow as Nico thought it over. “That doesn’t make sense. If he is a warrior then why-”

“Because they feared him. Still do. He can have all of the fallen, _their_ fallen, up at his command at the snap of a finger.” Minos pointed to the forge and violet flames. “Put a Stygian weapon in the hands of one of _his_ children, and they become his demigod equivalent.”

Nico shifted uncomfortably, thinking of what had happened with Jamie Thomson. It would have been so easy to kill him just with his power alone, he couldn't imagine what he might have done if he'd been armed... if he'd tried...

He shook his head, starting to shuffle towards the door.

“You're the son of Hades, Lord of the Underworld... and you wish to remain weaponless?” Minos rubbed his forehead and huffed. “Just waltz back to the Fields of Asphodel now, because that is where you will be within days, young master.”

Nico stopped.

“If you don't do this, then you will likely die at the claws of a monster or by another god's hands. The Big Three made a pack to never sire any more children and _you_ , young master, are living proof of his betrayal.”

“But Thalia and Percy-”

“They are as well. Unlike you, however, Percy has Poseidon’s protection and support, which is the only reason he's been able to survive as long as he has, and Thalia is under the protection of Artemis now, out of reach of the prophesy.” Minos crossed his arms. “Fail to gain your own father's support and you are as good as dead. Your sister was too young to cause trouble but she died on behalf of others, a sacrifice, so her resting place is Elysium. Yours will be the Fields and probably because you were cowering in a corner.”

Nico curled further into himself.

“But if this is your wish, young master, you could probably convince your father to shelter you here. Perhaps as a janitor, we need one of those.”

“I'll do it.” The boy looked up, wiping his sleeve across his face. “I'll try and ....forge the weapon.”

Minos laughed and clapped his hands, floating over to put an arm around Nico. “Excellent, I knew you had it in you, my boy!” He lead him over to the forge. “We'll make a Lord out of you yet.”

A few of the other ghosts were eyeing them but said nothing, moving away to attend to other projects so the Ghost King and the son of Hades could work.

Nico watched the violet flames wavering in the forge, more of that sour apple light emitting from beneath the coals. Each tongue of flame flicked across the black rods, leaving a faint green trail in its wake.

“Grab one.”

“What?”

Minos had taken hold of a bellows arm and heaved at it, sending a rush of air into the forge. The green glow beneath the coals turned white, the flames nearly clear.

“I said grab one.”

Nico looked about for some tongs, anything to grab one of the bits of Stygian Iron so they could begin whatever bonding ritual Minos had in mind.

“No, young master, grab it with your hands.” The Ghost King's voice was calm.

“I can't grab that! It'll burn me!”

The flat look on the Ghost King's face belittled what Nico thought might have been anger. “That's the point, young master. That is part of the bonding. You are a child of the Underworld, those flames come from here, as do you.” Minos gave another heave of the bellows and the forge roared again. “Now, grab one and let your little demigod instincts handle the weapon's creation. I would rather not be here all day.”

This was crazy. He was crazy. He had to be.

Nico took off his backpack and few layers of jackets until he reached sleeves to roll up. His cap joined his things on the workbench and Nico pushed his hair back from where it stuck damply to his face.

All he had to do was grab one of the rods and then... do whatever. Simple enough. He could make a weapon, he could... not die.

Nico looked to Minos again, the Ghost beginning to look impatient as he heaved the bellows a third time.

Grab it, hope the pain wasn't too much, that was all he had to do.

Grab the weapon, do whatever, hope through the pain, don't die.

Hope, and don't die.

Nico reached.

 


	5. Into the Labyrinth! ... again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for car/bus wreck towards the end of this chapter, no graphic details but as there is death involved I thought I'd give those that might need it fair warning just in case.
> 
> Starting next week I'm going to be diving head first into my new job so I will move the chapter posts to every other week to keep things moving along and hopefully avoid any lengthy hiatus caused by crunch times.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ice. Fire. Those two extremes were a norm for the Underworld but not for Nico. He couldn't decide which was happening except that the closest thing to the pain his foggy mind could recognize was getting a fish hook stuck in his arm once. That a million times over. All dragging him one direction and then another, shaking relentlessly till every bit of flesh tore away to leave him in tatters. Stygian Iron weighed so much more than he thought he could carry, body shuttering with every step towards the vat, but it was still nothing in comparison to the water of the Styx.

He'd seen chicken carcases boiled, saw how they went in pink and whole and emerged hours later with meat white and steaming, falling off the bone. That was what the Styx felt like and Nico was the chicken, body and soul. He couldn't fathom any more than his arms going under, the water broiling like dry ice over the edges and sending up great clouds of fog.

A wretched keening sound echoed above the voices raging about in his head and Nico only realized it was his own screams when his throat had given out. His legs followed suite a few seconds later and Nico crumpled against the side of the vat, forcing himself to scramble away when he felt more of the boiling liquid dripping after him.

He lay there shuttering on the floor for a while. Minos was standing beside him by the time Nico had regained enough of himself to sit up. What he wouldn't give for some of that nectar or ambrosia at that moment. Chocolate coffee beans and chilled egg custard.

Nico's lips moved but his throat was still too sore to manage more than a airy whisper of a few syllables.

“Uh.....” Minos sounded unsure of something.

He'd spoken further but Nico couldn't hear him over the ringing in his ears, vision flickering. What he could see was bad enough. His arms looked bleached and peppered with angry red blotches, none of his muscles responding. His right hand was gripped tightly on the hilt of a peculiar black sword while his left was griped just as tightly around the blade. It should have sliced his fingers off but it didn't.... no, wouldn't.

It wouldn't harm him.

Nico's mind lazily drifted around the idea of the blade, every curve and divot. Its hilt still needed to be wrapped and the blade itself fitted for a sheath, but it would never need sharpening, not so long as he lived, his instincts told him that. Three feet of frosted black metal curved slightly downwards and thickened towards the tip on one side. The blade's single cutting edge stretched up and back over the end to create half of a second edge, enabling the blade to be used for thrusting as well as slicing. Without even lifting the weapon he knew that wielding it was going to be much different than the double-edged swords he'd seen at camp. This blade would cut with all the force of an ax thanks to the shape. It was light and small, like Nico, but he had a suspicion that it would grow with him somehow.

The red blotches were beginning to fade along with the frost and Nico could feel the numbness leaving his limbs, exhaustion taking over. Minos still stood nearby and wearily Nico looked up to him with a meek grin.

_I lived._ He wanted to say.

Minos got the message and cleared his throat, gesturing to the blade. “This is... eh... unusual.” He looked shocked, even uneasy, but Nico couldn't figure out why. Minos again coughed and regained some composure. “A kopis.... normally the metal yields a xiphos or similar.. even a scythe.”

More than lived, Nico mused, he'd created a real blade with a name and not some wonky piece of fantasy weaponry.

“S.....ood?” Nico managed to croak.

The Ghost King was silent a moment longer and then his brows had knitted and he shrugged. “It's a sword, of course it's good, young master. A blade in use from the lowest hoplite to the ancient kings.” He bowed. “And of course you survived the ordeal.” Minos rose. “Might I suggest finding some place to rest? It will be a few days until your father is ready to see anyone and you are in need of some new clothes.”

Nico had looked down to see parts of his shirt scorched and cracked from the water and forge. He nodded but honestly he found he didn't care much.

The kopis was so much better than that Gettysburg diorama.

Nico's body remained fairly numb and he'd only managed to crawl under one of the work benches with the kopis held tightly to his chest. That was good enough for now.

Minos rolled his eyes a bit but said nothing, still pursing his lips in thought as Nico drifted off to sleep.

 

\- - -

 

Falling asleep under the workbench hadn't been the best of ideas but the sleep had been dreamless, he'd sat up and bonked his head. Nico had almost been inclined to think he had woken up from a wild dream until the rotten smell of sulphur and smoke made sense.

That's right, he'd forged with Stygian Iron in an Underworld armoury with help from a Ghost King. Looking down at the kopis was enough to make him forget all the pain it had caused. Minos had said it would focus his power and for the first time since getting dropped into this twisted life, the voices weren’t whispering softly in the background. He could refocus his vision through the Veil and see further beneath without having to resort to holding his hands over his eyes.

The boy smiled, crawling out.

He changed into a Spider-man shirt and pulled on his jackets, tugging his cap back into place.

“King Minos?” Nico looked around but the Ghost King was gone.

He shrugged, hugging the blade to him again as he cautiously approached one of the blacksmiths.

 

Minos had returned some time later as Nico tugged his new belt tight.

“Hehe, what do you think? Irenaeus taught me how to make it.” He indicated one of the ghosts that had wandered off to another forge. The kopis now rested in a fairly crude sheath on his left, hilt properly bound with grey leather. Irenaeus had insisted on him knowing how to bind the hilt above making the sheath. Nico hadn't argued.

“Practical.” Minos nodded, arms crossed. “Have you named it too?”

“Um...” He had, though the name felt too personal to share and Minos would probably laugh at such a name for a weapon of the Underworld. “Not yet, still thinking.”

“I wouldn't bother thinking too hard. A weapon needs to see battle first and you have yet to even step foot on a training field.”

Nico's face screwed up. “Hey, I swung a sword at camp!”

Minos laughed. “In a game of capture the flag, no doubt, Camp Half-Blood is famous for those. No, I mean a real fight, drawing blood, felling a foe, sundering their essence.” The Ghost King pointed to the blade. “Send something here or to Tartarus with that knife and  _then_ decide a name.”

“Kopis.” Nico corrected him, feeling insulted for the blade and all he'd gone through to get it. The indignation felt better than the chill in his stomach at the prospect of having to _kill_ with his new sword. Hopefully it would only be monsters.

“Yes, yes, kopis, young master, of course.” Minos had nodded his head in apology and indicated the door. “Have you rested enough to begin the next part of our plan?”

Nico eyed the Ghost King a moment longer before nodding.

The Ghost King lead him out of the dead city and across the Fields of Asphodel. There the dead had... lost themselves. They had forgotten who they had been and stood immobile in a vast expanse of grey. Their slack-jawed faces stared ahead of them, bodies bending out of his way as the two passed through.

“Pitiful, aren't they?” Minos drawled. “Useless in life and in death.”

“So this is what Purgatory looks like....” Nico gulped. “The dead in the city aren't like this.”

“No, young master, those dead come from Elysium willingly or are sentenced to their stations for the rest of their unlives.” Minos rolled his hand about. “I was a great King in life, murdered most horribly, but your father saw my worth and placed me as a Judge.”

“Oh... I'm... I'm sorry for you.”

Minos laughed. “Sorry? Dear boy, you should not waste your sorrows on the dead. We avenge ourselves quite regularly thanks to Melinoe.”

“Melinoe?”

Minos chuckled lowly, keeping his voice down. “Think of her as your estranged step-sister, the goddess of ghosts... and my half-sister.”

Nico had paused in walking. “Wh-....”

Minos had similarly stopped and grabbed hold of his backpack strap, pulling the boy to keep up with him. “The Olympian family is always full of treachery, broken oaths not withstanding. Unfortunately my father happens to be the worst, particularly at controlling his lust. Heh, half the problems Olympus has would have failed to manifest if he stayed completely faithful to Queen Hera.”

“But then he and Lady Persephone....”

“Oh, that? Yes, well, gods can take on any form they choose....and she is fiercely loyal to your father. However, Hera is also quite possessive of her own husband and vengeful.” Minos glanced back at Nico trying to wrap his head around the story.

“All you need to know, young master, is that there are more reasons than you know for why you must be wary of the Queen of the Underworld.”

Nico still failed to understand. As Minos had said, the only thing he had to know was that Persephone hated him already just for being born. That part he got.

The Fields of Asphodel were enormous, resulting in hours spent walking and resting amongst the fragrant and ghostly flowers. Nico was quiet after the conversation about Melinoe but eventually he tried to speak with some of the other ghosts, hoping they might speak back.

Large, black cows roamed through eating the grasses and clusters of mint. Minos avoided them and the car-sized hounds trotting back and forth along the herd’s edges. Nico thought he saw the herdsman once or twice but they were far in the distance.

Not getting anything from the Field ghosts aside from mindless moans, Nico bugged Minos for answers to various things about the Underworld itself. He found it odd that there were owls in the poplar and cypress trees, until Minos had explained that they were screech owls and sacred to Hades, which Nico already knew from reading. Owls and other normal animals  _being_ under ground were the main target of Nico's questions, then the stranger things he had seen.

Half of them he knew from his Mythomagic cards or the stories, sometimes by other names, the rest he did his best to remember for later. Minos' patience was wearing thin from the way he rubbed the bridge of his nose and Nico took it as a sign to stop bouncing around to different subjects, especially after he had stated that “Cerberus” was a Latin translation for “Kerberos” and ultimately meant “Spotted.”

“Hehe, Papa called him Spot.”

“Lord Hades,” Minos snapped, “and the guardian of the gate is still Cerberus. What kind of fear would we strike in the hearts of our enemies if we called the guardian..... _Spot_?”

Nico flinched. “Right. Lord Hades. Cerberus. Gotcha.” He paused again, catching a glimpse of something shimmering with a gold much different than the metal, eyes perhaps, within all of the grey spirits but Minos again pulled him along.

“This way, young master.”

“So... explain to me how this is going to work again? Please?” Nico continued along until they had stopped at an outcropping of jagged rock, far too close to the Fields of Punishment for his liking.

Minos cleared his throat and indicated a triangle, the Greek letter delta, glowing in a small overhang of shadow. “Through here is a tunnel that a traitor of the Underworld is using. You, young master, will undertake a quest on behalf of your father.” Minos scratched his pointed beard. “Your father profoundly lacks demigods going on quests for him, so the attempt alone will be enough. Succeed and you will earn his favour.”

Nico peeked in at the darkness, seeing and feeling nothing in the shadows but the back of the stone. He straightened back up, turning to Minos. “...yeeeeah....”

Minos frowned a little. “Young master, if it is your lack of experience that concerns you, you needn't worry. I told you that you would be able to forge a weapon on your instincts alone, did I not? The same will go for this quest. Demigods work their powers in different ways, instructors can only push for control and focus and you have your sword for that.”

“But what will I _do,_ King Minos?”

The Ghost King chuckled, putting a hand on Nico's shoulder. “You are the son of the Invisible One, a young Prince of the Dead and Darkness. You have all the tools at hand, young master, and all you need to do is flush out the traitor.” Minos grinned, reassuring the boy with a pat on his head.

“And... would Lord Hades... bring Bianca back if I asked? As a reward?”

Minos thought for a long moment, raking his fingers through his beard. “I don't see why not. He has allowed the return of souls under lesser circumstances.”

Nico's voice cracked as he whooped, pumping his arms into the air at the peak of a little hop. “I'll go! I'llgoI'llgoI'llgo!”

Like many adults, Minos didn't take much to the excitement, grudgingly waiting until Nico had gotten it out of his system. The boy still shifted around excitedly and Minos nodded to the mark on the stone. “Well go on then, young master. I must return to my duties soon but you'll figure out how to call on me, I have faith in you.”

Bianca back. Bianca alive again!

Nico stepped to the wall, assuming the mark was an “open” button of some magical kind. The stones slid back in formation of a door when he touched it and he took one last goofish grin at the Ghost King before stepping inside.

Darkness took over as the opening closed behind him, much like the maintenance door at camp. Like then, he tried to feel his way around a little before remembering he could sense where he was with the shadows.

“Hehe, Dare Devil powers, this is SO cool!”

A faint violet light gained his attention when his eyes had fully adjusted to the gloom.

“You _glow_ too?!” Nico pulled the kopis from its sheath a little, violet light gleaming out with all the strength of a top-notch glow stick. “Hmm... maybe I should have called you Sting instead....” He mused.

No, the name he had given the Stygian Iron blade was better than all of that. Besides, Sting had already been taken.

The tunnel he found himself in now stretched ahead of him like a throat, behind him a similar path.

“Didn't I just-?” Nico turned around again and the tunnel he had just viewed now had a slight bend in it, splitting in two at what looked like a sewer grate. “Eh.... King Minos? Little help here?” It made no sense. Had he not just stepped inside and walked a few feet? Whatever door he had gone through should have been right behind him.

Nico brought both his hands to his face, dark eyes peeking trough his fingers as he considered both directions ahead of him and the one behind. This was just like the maintenance tunnel, and he had somehow walked through it from New York to Utah, but part of it was in Underworld, L.A.?

“This thing must go under the whole country.... speedy god channel or something....annnnd I didn't bring food....” He sighed, arms flopping beside him. “Nice job.”

Whoever this traitor was he hoped they had food. If not, this was going to have been a very bad idea.

 

\- - -

 

This had been a very bad idea from the start, Nico admitted to himself.

He had been scouring the tunnels for hours, first looking for the traitor Minos sent him after (he still hadn't the slightest idea of the who or what), but now his focus was on finding the way he'd come in.

_Fooooood._

The word echoed in his gut but he wondered if returning to the Underworld for food was an even worse idea than going into this maze to begin with. Persephone had eaten Underworld food and ended up unable to leave for half the year... and she was a goddess. Nico avoided thoughts about earth tilt and seasons after his conversation with Apollo, Dr. Elinor was wrong in this case, all the stories were real.

All the Greek stories. Maze.

“Aw man!” Nico stopped dead in his tracks and smacked his forehead. “This is the Labyrinth isn't it?! Daedalus' STUPID Labyrinth!”

He looked about, trying to remember the myths.

“Um... Ariadne’s string lead... some guy.... Theaeus out of here after some mad king in Crete chucked him in....” Nico turned about, mind racing now. Oh, he was going to let the Ghost King have it! There was something important about the Labyrinth he knew he should be remembering in the mean time. “Minoan, pre-Greek....uh.....Daedalus and Icarus's wax wing thing....”

Think. Think. THINK!

“There was the.....Minotaur...” Nico's voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes had gone wide, and he'd ducked to the side of the tunnel, flattening himself as best he could as he looked up and down the branching passages again. The violet light from his kopis had dimmed with his wish to remain unseen and Nico had pushed it the rest of the way back down. His shadow sense stretched as far as he could reach with it but everything outside that hundred yard distance was fuzzy and non existent to him.

Nothing.

Three hundred attack, six hundred defence, berserker multiplier and double moves, gore abilit-

Nico slumped down the wall, trying to make himself the smallest possible target. He could feel the shadows cringe with him, shaping themselves around him like a pair of spindly-fingered hands.

What he wouldn't give for a couple of Ivy Nymphs and an entanglement enchantment to-

No. This was real... real Labyrinth, real Minotaur. There was a bull-sized mutant monster out there ready to gobble him up, squish him flat, gore him to death with those horns....

“Horns....” Nico had been on the edge of a panic attack when he finally remembered Percy again.

Percy, who had grappled with the Minotaur summer before last and killed it with his bare hands. A few of the other kids had seen the horn he kept as a spoil of war. The whole battle had happened at the gates of the camp.

It was dead.

The shadows around him relaxed and Nico sat with his head back against the stones long enough to warm them.

Dead.

Nico took in a shuttering breath and forced himself to his feet. Light from his sword soon re-lit the tunnels.

“Stupid Percy.....” He might have killed the Minotaur, thus its absence now, but he'd still failed to protect Bianca.

His legs shook and more than ever his stomach prodded him for something filling. He hadn't eaten since the tacos in a bag yesterday evening and every outburst of panicked power only made it worse. Bianca, keep going for Bianca. If he found the traitor then Hades would bring her back to life and it was all going to be over. They could go back to the camp and have fun again, real adventures, not deadly quests.

Minos wouldn't have sent him into the Labyrinth if he thought he might fail or be in any real danger. Maybe it was a test, almost every Grecian story he remembered had the hero doing some kind of test.

“I can do this.” He could do this and Bianca would be proud, so would his father. Maybe Bianca might give up the Hunters and stay if she knew he could do something on his own? That thought brought a smile to Nico's lips. He'd be protecting her.

Nico stood as tall as he could and nodded to the darkness. No more being afraid, he was the son of Hades. Of course being the son of Hades and looking where he stepped were not directly related. The floor of the tunnel gave way faster than Nico could yelp.

 

 

\- - -

 

Water soaked his clothes, freezing him with specks of frost. The tunnel roof was whole above him, no doubt the Labyrinth had moved on him again in the time he'd been unconscious. Preferably Nico wanted to stay unconscious just to avoid the cold.

He groaned, levering himself up.

The tunnel was narrow and littered with the stones that had fallen with him. Water flowed an inch deep from end to end and if it hadn't been for the pile of stone he might have landed face down in it and drowned. At least there was better light now.

Nico pulled his hand away from his head, blinking at what he first thought was just more dirt.

Great, blood.

It should have made him think more but everything was far too foggy, he couldn't feel his fingers or his scalp enough to know just how bad the injury was. Standing was difficult. Water had soaked through everything, weighing him down. It fell in streams, making sounds too faint for him to hear for all the buzzing in his ears.

_This way_ .

Nico staggered. His teeth chattered too much to even hear his voices. The sword was supposed to focus him but apparently it wouldn't if he'd been concussed.

_This way young master, you don't want to be standing there in a moment._

“M-m-minos?” Nico squinted, expecting to see the Ghost King nearby.

_Move, young master, least you die._

Die? No, he didn't want that, not when there was a chance to get Bianca back. Nico forced his legs to move, stumbling over debris.

“M-minos, where....are you?”

_Not there and yet there. Ghosts are fickle things._

“Make some sense... please....”

_You shall see, young master. Time for you to learn a most crippling aspect of your power._

Nico winced. “I... I'm tired... it uses too much....n' I'm hungry..... cold...” That was the price of his power then, the most crippling aspect. “M-minos, this is t-the Labyrinth.”

_I know. Call it your training ground for now, once you've mastered some basic skills I will lead you out._

“But... the traitor?” Nico had stopped. Light was shining from above him and making him wince after so much time in darkness. It wasn't the sun. The sounds of a busy city street tumbled down with the light of the streetlamp. The cold came from above, snow flakes finding their way past and falling on Nico's quivering shoulders.

_Oh, I didn't lie about that. A traitor has been using the tunnels to move about, sending spies and scouts. I will lead you to them too. You can dispatch of them easy._

“Who is the traitor then, if you kn-know so much?” Nico's body shook with a coughing fit.

_Many, my young master, lead by someone on behalf of your father's father._

Nico shook his head, the buzzing getting louder. “Father of... my father?” His mind had fogged too much to recall. “You couldn't have.. told me this before?”

_Would you have stepped into the Labyrinth if I had?_

No, Nico thought, he wouldn't have. It was all too dangerous. He'd come only to flush out a traitor, not kill “many” like Minos suggested.

_I thought not. You should move faster, young master._

Nico had made it across the open space of tunnel, pretty certain it was a runoff drain for the street above. The buzzing had gotten louder and louder, coming from above, he knew that sound. He'd felt it before and it brought with it such an impending sense of doom that his legs no longer responded.

He turned, looking up at the drainage grate as ice and snow cascaded down, tires screeched. Car horns blared and waned as the mechanisms within broke apart. The grate came loose as part of it snagged on whatever heavy vehicle slid across it, sending pieces of jagged metal and other debris down into the dark.

The wreck alone was enough to frighten any mortal child. Nico had the unfortunate chance to be a child of the Underworld on top of that.

A transit bus had been involved, that was the extent Nico could make out through the chaos. He remembered feeling Bianca's death like a rubber band popping against his brain. It had ached and she'd been so far away when it happened but these people were _right_ there.

One death was too much. It set every nerve on fire and snapped up his spine like a glass-encrusted whip, dropping him to the ground as if it were happening to him. One death was too much, three had him wishing for the lesser agony of forging. More he felt flickering and fading on the edge of death, his heart slamming into his lungs and ribs, stealing his breath, sending his vision dark but for the faces flashing cross. Faces of the dead and dieing, the face of a twisted, bat-like creature snapping out at the twisting chaos with teeth and fangs.

He knew the she-creature too. Nico had seen her... somewhere.. when the world had come crashing down around him before. Anaplekte, one of the Keres. She was Death, like Thanatos, but of a more quick and violent kind. How did he know her? Why did the way she snatched at the wavering souls above seem so familiar? So painful?

_You care too much._

Minos' words still came sharp as ever. Nico wondered if he could make it stop.

_Care too much and the pain gets worse, young master... I told you not to feel sorry for the dead, did I not?_

Nico rolled to his back, sputtering and shivering. Anaplekte's shrieks and the shouting screams above echoed in his ears.

_Care and you will never be able to strike when it might cost you your life if you hesitate. You must grow cold, young master, to live. Living is a most valuable thing among the dead._

Minos chuckled like it was nothing.

_These are hard lessons for one so young, I imagine._

“...make....it stop....”

_I cannot. This is your greatest weakness, I'm afraid. War is coming, young master, I wonder if you can survive your own power with all the deaths that will bring? You must make a friend in Anaplekte._

Four.

_Your father would be less kind than I. Your power will only grow, you're only sensing a fraction of what's going on, death becomes you._

“...please....”

_You are a demigod, not a mortal, act like it._

Nico wished that he'd had a moment of clarity, that he could have summoned up some other power that could stop him from feeling death like this. He wished he could have surprised Minos as he had at the forge. He wished Anaplekte's reaping would just stop.

The death shrieks faded and Anaplekte had left in as quick a chaos as she had come, leaving a hollow scar in the Mist and Veil where she had been.

_Are you quite done, young master? Sleep now, and you will certainly freeze to death._

Soaked again. Nico had dimly felt like he had become warm until Minos had mentioned freezing to death. Hypothermia often felt like being warm when a body was getting dangerously low in temperature. How he knew that seemed momentarily trivial or perhaps he'd gained access to a list of ways a person could die, no thanks to being around Anaplekte.

Nico staggered to his feet, body no longer shaking. Definitely hypothermia.

_My suggestion is find a way to get warm, young master. Keep moving along the tunnels. Hope they change to some place sunny._

The boy hadn't the strength to react to that other than to put one foot before the other. Moving was a good idea, it would help keep his temperature up and the wall made an excellent brace.

His shoes continued to squelch with water long after the runoff tunnel. The kopis' violet light had dimmed considerably and Nico imagined it had something to do with it being bonded to his own life or soul, something of that nature. Either way he had little need of the light, using his touch against the wall to keep him going.

Minos had been pleasantly silent for a long while, for which Nico was thankful. He... couldn't do this. Nico wanted to go home but there was nothing to go back to, nothing but Bianca. If he gave up and died right there, he'd be sentenced to the Fields, he'd not get to see her. He'd end up staring out at nothing with no chance of redemption. Slack-jawed and grey-faced, eyes that already looked like an abyss. What was wrong if the rest of him followed?

Bianca. No, he _would_ do this even if it killed him. For her he had to try, conquer or die.

_No._

Minos drawled. Nico figured he'd plucked the thought from his very mind.

“Mmm?”

_That line of thinking you're about to get started on. It won't work._

“...why....?”

How many hours had he walked? Days? Long enough to no longer feel anything, even the growling of his stomach had stopped.

_Because all souls end up in his care, yours included. You have your time, you cannot exchange it for hers which has already been spent. Now keep going, young master. There are few turns left to take.... can you sense them yet?_

Nico blinked, too wrapped up in the repetitive motion of his feet to understand much of what Minos meant except that someone was up ahead of him. Them. Traitors and spies of the Underworld.

“...I...can't fight them....”

_You will. You must. Else what worth are you?_

“Minos...I'm tired...”

_Then you will die and your body will rot here for all eternity, no rest for your soul._

A dim light had begun to flicker ahead, a pale blue glow from at least one flashlight by the way it was bobbing around. Nico made the mistake of stopping. The floor still felt as though it was moving but the illusion only lasted long enough for his legs to crumple.

_Get up._

“Did you hear that?” A girl's voice echoed down the tunnel and the bouncing flashlight turned off.

_I said get up, boy. They will kill you without hesitation or worse, keep you alive._

Nico tried to get back up, in the darkness he could feel the others, three. He knew there was a girl there, young from the amount of space she took up or just small for her age. The two others took up more space and as his mind tried to take in the details of such vague shapes his senses again began to overcompensate. He could taste metals. Bronze and copper mostly, carrying a sharp tang like chewing on a centesimi, steel came second with a sterile note, and then there were bits of gold and silver flavoured like weak lemons or limes. The closer they stepped the more intense the flavors became.

He stumbled a second time and froze in place, looking ahead in the dark. They were there, shadows coiling around them.

They couldn't see him, Nico realized, it was the one advantage he had.

He could hear them moving, coming closer.

Nico fought to keep quiet, keep the sound of his breathing low.

“Ethan?” The girl whispered.

A faint bronze light flickered from the blade of her sword as she drew it, illuminating the three and the tunnel.

She was petite and hardly five feet tall, her features all round and pale enough to put chalk to shame. Even her hair was pale but it all looked yellow in the light. The girl knew how to use that sword of hers, her stance was solid from what little Nico knew, but to him what mattered was that look in her eyes, Thalia had that same look and so had Annabeth, so had Percy and the Hunters.

The second boy beside her was taller by a head and built like a twig. He wasn't quite so pale as the girl, freckled up enough that he had at least gotten  _ some _ sun, dark hair ruffled into short spikes around a narrow, sharp face. Nico found it odd that the light of the Celestial Bronze reflected a vivid green in his eyes like a cat. 

Ethan, Nico assumed, was the third boy and the tallest of the three, by far the most intimidating. He was an older and darker version of Mary, sixteen by the look of him, but with black hair and a weather-worn patch over his right eye. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he scanned the darkness of the tunnel.

Each of the three carried backpacks and mismatched Grecian armour (a few bits of sports equipment too), the freckled boy being the only one with a dagger and a military tactical pack on each hip. The girl carried a bow and quiver as a backup to her sword. Ethan was only steps away from Nico's spot on the ground, the girl's light throwing his shadow over Nico. Ethan only had to look down and he'd see him.

“Obscuro,” the freckled kid had whispered.

“Gettin' tired of the Latin, Al.” Ethan hissed, still looking around.

“Concealed in darkness.” Al glanced to the girl beside him and then to Ethan and the darkness again with a roll of his reflective eyes. “There's a magic at work different from the Mist, I can't see through it but I can feel it.”

“Could have said something's weird, that would have been better.” The pale girl mumbled, earning another eye roll from Al.

Nico held his breath as Ethan took another step forward. One more and he'd step on him, was he completely blind or something? The larger boy had looked down, looked right at him, but his eye had never settled on Nico.

“Mary, just turn on the light again. If it's this obscuring darkness that's the problem, might solve it.” Ethan had started to draw his sword, the new shine of bronze light chasing back the shadow over Nico a moment before Mary's flashlight sent them running.

Ethan might not have seen him in the shadow but the moment the lights came on his expression had become startled, sword moving instinctively downward.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that was Hazel's eyes he saw in the fields. ^w^


	6. The Warren Trio find a lost little lamb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, soooo longer chapter today to make up for skipping the last update (new job... and reading Blood of Olympus ^w^ need to tweek a few details for upcoming chapters but thankfully nothing major)
> 
> You guys are the best!

“Kid, kid, KID!” Mary had blurted out. The flashlight jittered wildly in her bolt forward but Ethan was quicker.

Nico hadn't exactly fainted, he could still hear and see what was going on but every bit was through a fog. He almost feared he'd slipped out of his body again.

Ethan' blade struck four inches to his right, the older boy unable to stop the momentum by the time he'd realized his target. Sparks flew and he was down by Nico's side before the last tiny ember had died.

“Al, the kit!”

He felt his body being lifted up, head bonelessly lolling to one side.

Mary and Al had joined Ethan a moment later.

“Gods, he's ice!”

“Well get him out of the wet clothes!

“I'll start a fire, just get something dry for him, his lips are blue.”

Things had begun to flicker out of focus as the layers of water-logged jackets were wrestled off of him. His sneakers followed and Nico allowed himself to slip away into darkness, chasing after the taste of chocolate coffee beans.

 

Memories had ghosts. He was sure. The ghosts of memories were harder to catch hold of while wide awake and Nico was no where near wakefulness this time. There was the bitter taste of coffee and the crunch on his teeth, some kind of talcum scented kerchief dabbing at his mouth, held in a delicate,white-gloved hand.

“Look-it, look-it!” Bianca's voice was younger and in the memory Nico had turned from his spot on a man's lap. He was in a garden courtyard, everything old-growth and in full bloom. A small fountain burbled and Bianca twirled about in a yellow sundress. Pinks and oranges had begun to paint the sky and Bianca, no more than eight, had pulled the gathering shadows out of hiding to dance with her. They didn't shutter or whisper harsh things. The shadows she called sang something old and nameless, zipped back and forth like crows playing tag.

The man holding him had clapped, the woman had said something along the lines of “beautiful” but Nico couldn't remember how she had sounded, only what she had meant. His memory didn't have him turning to look at either of them and he supposed that was because of the three, the only one he knew for certain was Bianca.

“It's for the flower-lady!” Bianca had laughed. The man had tensed.

 

Nico blearily managed to open his eyes.

He was warmer now, bundled up in someone's spare clothes, sleeping bag, and a foil blanket to top it all off. A green fire burned in mid air above a drawing on a note card. Considering recent events that wasn't strange anymore. His clothes had been spread out to dry nearby, even the meagre contents of his backpack and pockets.

Of course there was a tactical advantage to all of that.

Nico blinked, looking about. Ethan and Mary had both rolled out their sleeping bags and camp mats on the opposite side of the fire, both sleeping while they could. Al was awake still, tending the fire. He was thumbing through the warped Mythomagic cards, trying to dry them or read them. Half of them had been worn thin from Nico's shuffling.

“Take it easy kid.” Al muttered. He set the cards down and fumbled in his bag. “You allergic to fish?” He pulled out a tin of salmon and tossed it where Nico could reach it.

His hands were shaking almost too much to fumble with the pull tab. Nico didn't feel hungry but that scared him even more than being captured. The tin wasn't much but he nodded wordlessly in thanks, shovelling it down with his fingers.

“Guess not.” Al shrugged and pulled out a canteen next, doing the same as he'd done for the tin. He turned his attention back to the cards, letting the boy finish eating and drinking in peace.

Nico settled back down into the warmth of the sleeping bag.

“Got a name, kid?” Al squinted at something on a particular card and rolled his luminous green eyes at it.

“...s...s'mn....” Nico croaked.

Al quirked a brow. “Didn't quite catch that.” He kept his voice low for the sake of the other two. “But I'm guessing  _ Nico _ , am I right?” Nico's eyes widened and Al chuckled. “Heh, kid, I'm messing with you. Your name was sharpied on one of your jackets. I'm Al, and those two over there are Ethan and Mary.”

Nico curled up a little tighter, wishing that they'd just kill him and get it over with. Minos had made it sound like that was the preferred option when he ran into these traitors, only now he was captured. How worthless was that for a son of Hades?

“Well, Alabaster, actually, but those two call me Al for some strange reason.” He feigned a shutter. “Anyways, cutting right to the point of the matter.” Alabaster picked up Nico's kopis from his other side and sat it so the younger boy could see it. “I'm guessing you're already claimed and you know what's going on?”

Nico paled and he was sure Alabaster could literally read him. He much preferred him as “Al,” he seemed much less intimidating then.

“Well?”

Nico felt his eyes growing hot and turned away from him. He heard Alabaster sigh.

“Well tell me what you _do_ know then. It'll go a lot easier on all of us if we're not having to explain things every five minutes.”

He remained silent.

“Then I'll play twenty questions and you just nod or shake your head, yes and no.”

“Here we go.” Ethan yawned, turning over. “He loves this game, kid... don't play it with him...”

“Spoiled sport.” Alabaster stuck out his tongue towards the teen, smirked, and glanced back towards Nico. “Games are fun, aren't they Nico?” He held up the Mythomagic cards. “Are you all by yourself?” He phrased the question innocently.

Nico tried to pretend he was more tired than he was. Alabaster saw through it.

“Accidentally fall in?” Alabaster had left the blade where he'd set it and shifted so he sat closer to Nico.

Nico said nothing.

“Hmm....” Alabaster's freckled face pinched in thought and he leaned back against the wall. “I'm guessing... orphan?”

There was no dismissing the hitch in Nico's breath.

“Most of us unclaimed are, kid, don't let him get to you.” Ethan mumbled.

“It wasn't a malicious question.”

“And stop using big words, he's... what? Six, seven? Stop spooking him with your little mind-trick routine, gods, Al.”

Marry groaned from her sleeping bag, tossing the corner over her head. “I will stab  _ both _ of you if you don't shut-up and let me sleep!”

Both boys had muttered apologies, Ethan giving a warning glare at Al before turning back over.

Alabaster shrugged, looking now to Nico. “Tomorrow then.”

Nico flinched as he'd brought something towards him.

“Hey, take it easy.” He set the cards down and another tin of salmon.

 

\- - -

 

“Sorry about last night.” Mary yawned. She'd folded up her sleeping bag and sat cross legged on the mat.

“Yeah, yeah, figured it was this place.” Ethan was busy packing. “I say we cut this run a day short. Get the kid back.”

Alabaster had lifted his hand in agreement.

“Oh, you do? Well I can hear Mr. Bossy-pants now, screaming we didn't go far enough.” Mary checked her arrows. “Besides, he's another mouth to feed and he's way too young to do much of anything.”

Ethan sighed. “I'm not afraid of that big oaf, he can go swallow Greek fire for all I care.”

“You won't be saying that when the battle comes.” Alabaster's fire card had burnt up and he took care of setting up a lantern now that Nico had warmed.

“No, Al, I'm saying that _because_ of it.” Ethan gestured off towards the tunnels. “Look, I'm all for this war he wants to get involved with, win one for the little guys, but this freak-show... Antaeus, he's looking for? He's bad news, and don't you pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Waylan's not... he's not thinking about things anymore.”

“I'm with him on that one.” Mary nodded.

“So, what? We're just supposed to march with monsters and prepubescent demigods up to Olympus, march on the _gods_ , and cross our fingers?” Alabaster stopped unpacking his ration. “If this Kronos thing fails or backfires we'll _need_ someone like him.”

Nico listened to the three debate amongst themselves. Antaeus he knew of from the Hercules legends, a wrestler in the desert who challenged passers by to death-matchs so he could build a temple to Poseidon with their skulls. He'd been the child of Gaea and Poseidon and because of his mother he had a god's strength while rooted to the earth, until Hercules had pretty much lifted him up in the world's most fatal bear hug. Keeping with the understanding that the legends were true, didn't that mean Antaeus was long dead? Well, so had the Minotaur until about a year ago.

Each of the three had soon tossed him a little something they could spare from their meal, effectively creating a fourth portion.

“Still worried about what we're going to do with this kid.” Ethan indicated Nico.

The little boy looked up.

“Heh, he's claimed.” Alabaster shrugged. “That sword is proof enough, a Chthonic deity.”

“Chthonic?” Mary looked even paler in the lantern light, washed out like a ghost. Nico suddenly wondered if _Mary_ was a nickname, perhaps like the nursery rhyme.

Alabaster nodded. “The gods beneath the earth, the _di inferi_ , ones you aren't likely to find visiting Olympus any time soon. The pantheon is split, you see? The Olympias sit on their thrones all free and flitting while the Chthonic ones inhabit... well, I've heard it referred to as the Olympus of the Underworld. Anyways, the Chthonic deities are more chaotic generally, busy with the dark and shadowy places, ghosts, and things, nightmares and dreams... which considering this kid's little obscuro trick.. isn't far off.”

“So who's claimed you, kid?” Ethan asked nervously.

Nico continued to munch on the food. He couldn't exactly tell them he was the son of Hades, they were traitors of the Underworld and probably might try to ransom him.

“I.... I was...f-following someone.... they took me to.. the sword....” Nico croaked. It wasn't exactly a lie.

“A satyr?” Mary took a swig from her canteen.

Nico shook his head and Alabaster had snorted. “A satyr, underground?”

“Hey, stranger things have happened, Al!”

“You don't just come across a weapon, nor is anyone _just_ lead around.” Ethan sighed. “How'd you end up down here in the Labyrinth then?”

Nico pulled the sleeping bag up around his shoulders. “I was lead.”

“By Andrea Heartfelt?” Alabaster drawled. He seemed to take pleasure at seeing Nico's dark eyes widen and flashed the business card he'd found while going through Nico's Mythomagic cards.

“That's mine!” Nico tried to reach for it but Alabaster held it back.

“Oh, struck a nerve then? Well, let's see....Latin. Very nice.”

Ethan sighed again and rubbed the side of his forehead, re-situating the strap of his patch. “Great, the one time your Latin comes in handy for more than spells... stop torturing the kid.”

“In a moment, in a moment.” Alabaster chuckled, his eyes darted back and forth a few times, soon widening.

Nico drew back a bit at the unnerved look Alabaster had soon given him.

“Ok... change of plans. We're heading back. Waylan needs to see this kid.”

“Al, what's wrong?” Mary was on her feet, shoving things away and Ethan had the same concerned look, expecting the green-eyed youth to answer.

Nico had drawn back, struggling to get out of the sleeping bag. Someone had redressed him in a pair of jeans and a hoodie, both black, even the socks. He wasn't thrilled about the prospect of running away without shoes, even less of leaving his kopis behind, but if he could just get away.

Ethan's solid arm had slung around his chest, knocking some air from his lungs. His feet no longer touched the ground and Nico did his best to elbow the larger boy into letting him go. All that did was earn him a bruised elbow, Ethan had his armour protecting his chest and he could move out of reach of Nico's flailing arms to avoid getting caught in the face.

“Calm down kid!”

“Let me go!” Nico popped his head backwards, catching Ethan's chin hard enough for the larger boy to loose his grip. He wriggled down, for once thankful he was so small. He tried to roll backwards between Ethan' legs but he'd dropped to his knees, seeing the ploy for what it was.

Nico gasped, still trying to struggle out from under him and the teen's large hand clamped down around his shoulder. “CALM down!”

“ _Incantare: corpus exos._ ”

A flash of florescent green came from Alabaster and Nico felt his body go limp.

Ethan had let him go a moment later and stood, looking down at him, then Alabaster.

“Hey, he was going to run. He's fine. Paralysed, but fine.” Alabaster stepped over and knelt down beside Nico. “Hear that? You're fine, you just can't move, so I know you're probably going to anyways... but don't freak out too much.”

“You can't just do that to kids, Al!”

Alabaster just gave the other boy a shrug. “Still, we need to take him to Waylan.”

“Why, exactly?” Mary was giving him the same look Ethan was.

He held up the card. “This insignia, it's Roman.” He looked between the two. “Roman? You know? Roman empire, superseded the Greeks and stole all th- ah, gods, you guys don't appreciate history, do you?”

Ethan picked up Nico and slung him over his broad shoulders. “No, which is why you're the geek in this group. Get to the point. Smaller words too, braniac.”

Mary finished packing Ethan's things and shouldered his bag as Alabaster continued.

“Fine. Just understand that even after everything that happened between the ancient Greeks and Romans, they were still just two sides of the same coin. Romans came in _after_ the Greeks but us Grecian demigods are still kicking around so it stands to reason Roman ones might too, even demigods of other world pantheons, perhaps. Ever wonder why every culture has some version of giant serpents? Dragons?”

“I'm having issues with just ours, Al.” Mary sighed but Nico could see a bit of a smirk at the corner of her pale lips as she turned to look back at him flopped across Ethan's shoulders. “So... this kid could be a Roman?”

Alabaster nodded. “And if he's not down here from Camp Half-Blood and the Greeks, then that means there might be another place like it, and if  _ that _ gets involved in the war then... well... we need to account for it.”

“It sounds crazy, Al, I mean we would have seen Romans by now if they were here. Don't they march around in big troupes?” Ethan chuckled.

“I'm not saying it's correct, just that it's possible. For all we know there could be another camp that's Greco-Roman or just another Greek camp prone to handing out Roman-style business cards, maybe another refuge group like us... maybe even a new movie that's promoting stuff and all this is completely off but-”

“But you're paranoid.” Ethan bounced Nico back onto his shoulders, his body having slipped a little.

“Paranoia keeps us alive, Ethan. I'd rather be crazy... more appropriately: fallacious, than proven right.”

Ethan sighed again.

Nico's soaked belongings had been shoved into his backpack that Alabaster carried by one strap at his side. There was no getting anything dry until the surface and Nico had no idea how long that trip was going to take.

Alabaster's paralysis on him had been heart-attack worthy up until the point he'd told him what was going on, then it had just been annoying. He couldn't talk, couldn't look around, moving was out of the question. It felt like his body had fallen asleep or he was a puppet being carried around.

Minos had said the traitors were being lead by someone on behalf of Hades' father, his grandfather. Nico busied himself trying to remember who that was but all he could remember was someone called Rhea tricking a Titan into swallowing a rock instead of Zeus and then barfing up all the other gods when Zeus had come back as a grown man. The Titan had been the father of the Olympian gods and Rhea had been the mother.

Antaeus? No, that was the wrestler. Waylan? No, too modern, probably another camp leader like Mr. D or Chiron.

Think.

_That Alabaster boy said it earlier._

Minos? Nico blinked. Where had the ghost been when he'd needed him?

_Oh, around. I told you to act or else you would be captured, yet here you are, young master._

He was sure Minos was able to read his mind now. Thinking on how invasive that was wasn't about to get him out of this mess and so Nico attempted to remember the names that had been mentioned. Kronos?

_That's the name. Perhaps your being captured is an advantage. Heh, these three fools seem very much open to talking in front of a child. You seem recovered, how does it feel to talk with a ghost?_

Talk with a ghost? He'd been doing that already.

_Oh, surely you've figured out some more things by now? You needn't speak with your lips where spirits are concerned. Plenty well and good for you at the moment._

Nico tried to frown, tired of Minos' chiding remarks. He was tired in general and still hungry. Perhaps being a captive for long enough to get a decent meal wasn't such a bad idea.

_You don't listen nearly so much as you talk, young master._

He could swallow and blink, numbly hoping Ethan might realize soon his armour was pinching into his belly where the hoodie had ridden up.

_Hm? Nothing to say to that? Well, I'm impressed. I suggest figuring a way out of your situation soon, these three are being tracked._

Minos was never going to help in the way he needed, Nico had settled on that fact and he didn't think a spirit like Minos could affect the physical. “Tracked” did not sound good.

 

\- - -

 

The group had stopped several times to rest and eat along the way to wherever it was they were headed. Nico had been granted the use of his upper body when they seemed certain he wasn't about to do anything reckless.

Ethan slumped against the wall with a roll of his shoulders, looking down at Nico beside him. “You know, for a pint-sized ball of fluff, you're heavy after a while.” He finished off the sentence by ruffling up Nico's hair into more of a mess than it already was.

“Don't touch me.” Nico frowned. He attempted to move away but there was only so far he could go so he settled for crossing his arms tighter around himself.

Ethan shrugged at that, backing off. “Hey, you've got two choices, kid: come with us willingly or be a sack of potatoes. Preferably I'd like you to come willingly.”

“You should.” Mary added. She had her bow in her hands and was checking out the bend in the tunnel just ahead of them.

The whole Labyrinth changed far too often for them to go far from one another, from cavern to tunnel, to pipes and maintenance shafts, Nico had felt like they were just wandering without direction beneath a bunch of different places. It was too random. Looking back the direction they had come from had, when they passed through, looked like an old subway tunnel but now looked like a crevasse in a box canyon, stars twinkling overhead. Nico honestly would have thought they were just guessing their way around if he hadn't noticed that a long line of parachute cord was tacked up along the wall using climbing hooks. Each place it split off had a number of tags attached to each direction as an indication they were heading a certain way.

“It's better than being on your own. Some of the monsters out there are just irritable if you stumble across them, but others really love hunting demigods.” Mary had come back with a nod to the boys that the path was clear for the moment.

“Like manticores?” Nico mumbled.

Alabaster blinked. “Wait... you saw one? A manticore, I mean.”

Nico nodded. “Dr. Thorn... he tried to take my sister and I.”

The three had suddenly exchanged glances and Nico bit his lip. He'd seen that look on Grover and the others when they'd found he and Bianca, like there was something special about siblings.

“Well... it would be nice to have another girl around. I'm tired of these two knuckle-heads.” Mary sighed. “Any chance you can... can sense where she is? We can go get h-”

“She's dead.”

The three had gone silent, a small respectful moment that passed just as it had at camp. No one seemed to want to mourn the dead long enough.

“Still, a manticore...” Ethan scratched his chin. “That's some serious muscle, no one's seen one since... well, since...since...” He looked up to Alabaster.

“Sixteen eighty-eight, at least, but that's speculation.”

Ethan gave him a thumbs up. “Sixteen eighty-eight, let's go with that.” His dark eye widened. “And it's _Persian,_ not Greek, I get what you're saying about the Roman thing, Al!”

Alabaster made an excited gesture. “I know, right?!”

Nico could tell what they were trying to do but his own words left the taste of ash in his mouth.

She's dead.

But that wasn't true, not for much longer anyways. He'd found the traitors, though he was captured. If he found a way out of this then all he had to do was turn the tables and bring them back to Lord Hades, and then he'd get Bianca back.

_You'll have to end them._ Minos chimed in.

Nico swallowed, shaking his head. The memory of the transit bus, of Anaplekte, was still fresh.

_What did I say about caring, young master? You are a young Lord of Death, you will have to make your peace with that. They are traitors. Kill them and bring back a lock of their hair as proof. We'll interrogate their spirits and figure out what the enemy is planning._

A movement on his right made him jump.

Mary giggled a bit at that. “Sorry. Are you alright?” Her smile had turned softer. “Look... I... I know this is a lot to take in for a kid.” She shrugged. “I was nine when things got weird and I still think I'm in a bad dream sometimes.” Mary glanced to Ethan and Alabaster, then back to Nico. “I wish I could say it gets better... I really do, but these two knuckleheads are some of the older demigods I've seen. Ethan's about to turn seventeen and, yeah, that hasn't done him many favours.. kinda the max life expectancy.”

She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. “I guess she meant a lot to you,”

_She thinks she can trick you._

“But you're the one who's still here,”

_Are you really going to keep letting her talk?_

“And she's still here because you're still here, you get me? So do her a favour and stay alive as long as you can for her sake, alright?”

_Master, Bianca is still here because she waits for you to resurrect her, and to do that you MUST stop these traitors._

Nico narrowed his eyes. “You don't know anything about her... or me.”

Mary raised a platinum eyebrow at him. “I don't pretend to, but I feel it in my gut that you'd do anything for her, gone or not. Us demigods have to trust our guts and I don't know if you've learned that yet.”

She stood, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Trusting your gut keeps you alive, and you can't do that if you're so concerned with things you can't help.” Mary bit her lip. “And speaking of, we're taking you back to our place. We can get a decent meal in you and give you a place to sleep for a while but if you decide to leave we won't come looking for you. Waylan's gotta talk to you first even if you want to leave.”

Mary turned to Alabaster and Ethan again, the two hunched over and talking quietly about the mythological creatures of the world.

“Why?” Nico's face had pinched and he'd tightened his arms across his chest.

Mary paused, then sat down again. “What do you know of demigods and our world?”

Nico blinked at that, his expression faltering.

“Not much, hm?” She giggled and shrugged, sighed, and then leaned back against the stone. “I don't know where you come from or what your story is, kid, I just know mine. I'm unclaimed.... been in more foster homes and underpasses than I care to count and you learn pretty fast to take care of yourself. That's how it is for most all of us and we learn what we can, when we can.”

Mary leaned over, almost secret-like. “Then you might have a little luck and stumble across a group like ours.” She nodded. “On your own and chances are you're monster-bait, but together we watch each others' backs.”

“What about Camp Half-Blood?”

“So you _do_ know about the camp.” Mary again shrugged. “Personally I've never been there... Ethan has.... Ethan, you tell him why you left.”

Eathan looked up, Alabaster eyeing them both a moment like they'd stepped on a prickly topic. The older boy glanced at the ground a moment, then had leaned back like Mary.

“I got tired of all the crap. I mean it's a nice little place but it's full of crap and lies.” He shook his head. “Need a place to stay? Sure! We've got cabins for you! Then they forget to mention there's only twelve for each of the twelve ruling Olympians, so even if you're claimed you're still stuck in the limbo of cabin eleven with the Hermes kids unless your parent has a throne on Olympus.”

Ethan tapped on the sheath of Nico's kopis. “Ca- ctha... whatever that word you used was, Al, the Underworld gods. Fat chance of even being looked at with any good will once that goes public. Do you know who Hecate is? Underworld goddess, THE goddess of the Mist that keeps all this mythic mess from impacting the mortal world, of the magic and enchantments that let US protect ourselves and get by in a world that just sees us as insane little kids. Yeah, you'd think she'd have enough respect and be given a throne and her children a cabin to call their own, but no. Not her, not Nemesis, or any of the several dozen other gods and goddesses with children who could at least be given a place to call home even if it's not an official cabin like the twelve. You can't even sit with anyone from another cabin at meals, it's like... it's like getting cut-off all over again.”

Alabaster nodded at that. “Add to that a superiority complex for those that are claimed.... most of them, anyways, left with pretty much no relate-able guidance and you have the best recipe for a modern-day Lord of the Flies.” He shrugged. “Well, with swords and magic powers, you get the idea.”

Nico just stared and Ethan shook his head. “Lord of the Flies, it's a book. Al doesn’t have as bad a time reading as some. The point is that Camp and the Olympic Twelve don't give a second thought to the kids they don't claim or pickup because they don't have power. Those kids still have problems and they have no idea what's happening to them.”

“There you go.” Mary took another glance down the tunnels they could see.

Ethan mumbled something under his breath and leaned back against the wall.

“Soooo.” She looked back to Nico. “Why did you leave the camp?”

He wanted to say his sister's death and that he'd at least partially discovered his parentage. Saying that, however, would only lead to more questions and them possibly discovering Hades was his father. They seemed to respect the Underworld gods at least... maybe....

_They lie._

Nico blinked, looking back into the shadows they had come from. Minos. He couldn't see the Ghost King but he could feel his presence.

“Hm?” Mary followed his gaze.

Nico shook his head, still keeping quiet. Lying wasn't one of his strong suites.

Al, like Mary, had glanced in the direction Nico had. He stood in tandem with her as they caught sight of something Nico hadn't and Ethan was on his feet a moment later.

“Wh-”

_I told you they were being tracked._ Minos drawled.  _And yet you remain paralysed._

Nico shook his head and tried to leaver himself up, looking up at the three.

_They're the traitors, remember? Should you survive this, take a hint when a veteran gives it, you are still a child, young master._

“Al.” Mary had grabbed hold of Nico and pulled him upright, Alabaster muttering an incantation under his breath that freed the younger boy's limbs. Neither had taken their eyes off the shadows.

Ethan had tossed the kopis over to him and Nico nearly dropped it. “I hope you know how to use that thing, kid.”

_Oh, he'll be disappointed._

Nico shuffled backwards, the edges of his shadow sense beginning to feel something solid slinking about. He shook his head, catching Mary's eye as he did so.

“Last chance, Nico. Monster chow or with us?” Mary whispered. She'd drawn her bow again, half her height and no more than a piece of normal sports equipment. Her arrows, however, were tipped with Celestial Bronze and dagger thin to pierce armour. Curious marks had been drawn down the shaft and the fletchings were a vivid teal with each accented another colour.

The boy's mouth had gone dry and he felt the world slowing down again. This time he wished it wasn't, he didn't want to watch himself being eaten alive in slow motion. The most he'd fought were a few fist fights and always there had been someone there to stop it from getting too bad. This would end when someone died.

“How close?” Ethan had to turn to see Alabaster and the green-eyed boy's brows pinched together and Nico was certain the green of his eyes wasn't a trick of the light at all, they really did glow.

“Close enough.”

Mary nodded at that. “We fall back. We're not too far from the Warren, we can make a run.”

The two older boys hadn't questioned that, beginning to shift backwards without mouthing off like Nico had seen some of the boys at Westover do. Mary had grabbed his arm, her arrow still knocked and balanced lightly between her fingers.

Nico had just looked at her with wide eyes, nodding.

“ _Incantare: venenatis murum!”_

Alabaster had thrown an arm out in front of him, tiny threads of neon-green light racing across the stones and towards the darkness, just short of Nico's senses where they wove together as a net. A shriek erupted beyond that, followed quickly by a brilliant flair as something slammed into the barrier.

“Empousa!” Mary's grip on Nico's arm tightened and he'd nearly gotten whiplash as she took off like a shot, Ethan and Alabaster close on their heels, leaving their bags behind.

 

\- - -

 

Entanglement. Golem Guard. Trip Wire.

They were all cards Nico was fond of using in his arsenal of Mythomagic spell cards. That was just a game but Alabaster, like Percy, was the real deal and much scarier.

Whether it was more words or little drawings on ordinary sticky notes and index cards, gestures, Alabaster kept the unseen Empousa at bay far behind them.

First it had been the magical barrier that the three seasoned demigods knew wouldn't hold for long. However the monster had broken through, Al had let out a curse and dug in one of his hip pouches for an index card. He'd flicked it once with his forefinger and tossed it behind them as they ran.

Nico could have sworn he saw the misty outline of a medieval knight erupting from it before they had rounded a corner.

“Is she still coming?!” Ethan's blade was giving them light, having taken the lead now that Alabaster guarded their flank.

“I don't think it's an Empousa!” Al bit back. “It's too strong or there's just a LOT!”

“We'll make the Warren, just don't stop running!” Mary had let go of Nico's arm so he wasn't tripping in his attempts to keep pace with her strides. He'd run out of his socks a ways back.

Alabaster grumbled something under his breath as he slowed, half turning as he waved what Nico first thought was a magic wand. Maybe a pen could be a magic wand as well as it could be a sword. He waved the pen around erraticly, loosing more of the luminous green threads like he was writing on the air. Each of the threads affixed themselves to points on the wall to create a gauntlet of tight lines, flickering out of the visible spectrum.

Mary and Ethan had slowed just enough for Al to catch up and then they were off again in pursuit of the cords tacked up on the wall.

Natural stone floor had given way to tiles, then muddy earth.

“Keep up kid!” Ethan had yanked Nico up when the boy had stumbled.

The screeching behind them was getting closer, breezing past all of Alabaster's spells.

“The path!” Mary had skidded to a halt at the edge of a massive drop-off as the tunnel they were in opened up into a cavern. The cord lead right over it to the other side, swinging in mid air sixty feet or so above the floor.

“Keep going!”

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Ethan had yelled back at Alabaster but the younger boy moved past them and kept running right out into open air as if the floor still existed.

“It's the Labyrinth's illusion, it's still the tunnel, now MOVE!” He had darted back, grabbing onto Nico's hand and pulling him forward hard enough to almost disjoint his shoulder.

Mary and Ethan had little trouble following suit and Nico felt like he was running on invisible moss suspended above the cavern floor as they fled. The four had reached the other side and slowed, wondering if the monster would stop.

“What.... is that?” Ethan's good eye had widened considerably.

Across the chasm was, at first glance, a woman in an emerald green chiton with hair flowing around her long and elegant shoulders. She was much taller than a human should have been but that might have been because she stood on a serpent's tail rather than legs. The swan-like elegance of her torso suddenly appeared off, lanky, and her face at this distance was only visible by a bright green glow like Alabaster's spells. She had stopped at the edge of the path, considered it, and then kept moving forwards out into the falsely empty air.

“That is NOT an Empousa...” Mary muttered to herself.

Alabaster had made a soft sound, his grip on Nico's wrist far too tight and shuttering. Mary had loosed two arrows at the creature before Ethan had cursed and pulled Alabaster back by his waist, prepared to carry him if he didn't move, pulling Nico along as well.

A flicker of white light in Mary's quiver saw the return of her missing arrows and she'd grabbed another three in her hand, all but dancing backwards as she let them fly in quick succession. She was a crack-shot but even Nico could see the monster had found some way of making the arrows miss their mark.

“ _In- inc-cantare: venenat-tis m-murum!_ ” Alabaster struggled to cast his spells, none fully manifesting with him so shaken. 

“ _Incendium_!” Mary had taken up the slack, the markings on her red-fletched arrow glowing a brilliant crimson as they streaked towards the snake-woman. Flames had erupted where the arrow struck the wall, enveloping the monster.

Another shriek had echoed as they rounded another corner, the four darting into another tunnel a moment later. They had heard it scream but Nico hadn't felt it die.

The tunnel had become much like an underpass or culvert now, cement and old news papers littering the ground while various taggers had left their marks in technicolour spray-paint on the walls. An array of other tunnels dropped out into the area, each with more cords and paper tags marking directions.

Ethan pulled a whistle from one of his pockets, letting loose a series of sharp notes.

Whatever that was for Alabaster had gotten himself back into enough of a solid mindset to drag his hand across the graffiti. The tags began to glow with various colours as latent spells within them activated.

“This way!” Ethan shoved Nico into an alcove on their left, a dead end were it not for the glowing blue triangle at the back.

The stale air of the underpass fell from the air, quickly replaced by wet pines and earthly dust.

“Wh-?!” Nico had run bodily into a girl with a neon-blue knit cap, green eyes looking at him in question before she'd looked up to see Alabaster and Ethan stumble through the door.

Mary loosed another of her explosive arrows, the spells along the tunnel not slowing the monster down enough. A harsh and scratchy voice echoed up from the depths, roots and vines rushing forwards as Mary backed out into the rest of the group.

“SEAL IT!” Alabaster screamed.

The blue-capped girl nodded, yanking a can of spray-paint from a nearby bag. Ethan shoved the door closed, he and Mary throwing their weight against it as the wriggling roots attempted to come through. A second kid joined in, armed with spray-paint as well, both she and blue-cap began spraying the edges of the door with various squiggles and symbols, muttering incantations in both Latin and Greek.

Alabaster had hesitated but soon threw his shoulder against the door as it tried to fly open, screaming incantations along with the two spell taggers. Ethan had pulled a bronze knife from his boot, slashing at the tendrils that managed to get through.

This couldn't be real.

Nico shook his head, shaking uncontrollably as he watched them struggle with the door. Other kids had rushed over to help hold the door closed, many hacking at the tendrils, some hauling over a beam to wedge the thing shut.

The door had finally slammed closed with a loud popping noise and shimmer of light. Banging noises from beyond brought collective winces from the crowd, all waiting to see if the seals held.

“Al? Al!”

Nico watched Ethan grabbing for Alabaster as the younger boy's legs buckled. He seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness, nose bleeding.

“I felt him doubling up on all our binding spells.” Blue-cap still hadn't taken her eyes off the door. “He probably spent himself up if he wasn't hit with anything.”

Ethan nodded, pulling one of Alabaster's arms over his broad shoulders. “I'll take him to the fountain.... Mary, can you bring Nico?”

Nico continued to stare between Ethan and the door and Ethan again. It wasn't until Mary had offered to piggyback him that Nico realized the dark red paint all over his feet wasn't paint at all.

The door was holding when they left, the others ensuring that it remained so.

“This... this isn't real....” Nico whimpered. His grip on Mary's shoulders tightened.

“Hate to break it to you, Nico, but it is.” She offered quietly.

Wherever the Labyrinth had let them out it looked to be abandoned by all but the other demigod kids. Paint was peeling off of graffitied walls and half-windows were so caked with grime that they had been broken to see out or turned into art boards by persistent scrubbing.

They had come up basement stairs and into a long, windowless hall flanked by small rooms containing what looked like carnival decorations, endless supplies of metal beams, and large spotlights. Younger demigods, some even five and six years old, were running around with wooden swords and moth-chewed costumes.

Nico's suspicions that this was an abandoned theatre or opera house were confirmed when they stepped into the ticket hall. A once-ornate staircase swept up towards a second floor, the top of which was a playground of shadows. The centre of the ticket hall featured a large fountain with a water-bearer sculpture at the building's boarded entrance, surprisingly working and well cleaned.

“Man, you are _out_ of it.” Ethan chuckled, easing Al down to the floor. He picked up one of the cups resting on the fountain's rim and filled it for him.

“Here.” Mary had done the same for Nico. “It'll help.” She shrugged. “It's not ambrosia or nectar, but it gets the job done.”

He had taken it and sipped cautiously, watching as Mary had taken a third cup and filled it to start rinsing off his feet.

“Yikes. You better stay off your feet a few days. This looks pretty bad.”

Nico hissed a bit as she had started washing away the blood and dirt. The fountain water bubbled like peroxide, thankfully not stinging like it. “What is this?” He continued to sip from the cup, not feeling quite so exhausted or cold.

“Our resident Naiad, Arethusa... the little ones call her Ariel sometimes so that name has stuck too. She's the Warren's guardian spirit, I guess you could say. Gave the fountain here healing waters when she settled in so we'd only have to use the other stuff in emergencies.”

“Oh.” Nico looked down at the cup, then up at the sculpture of the water bearer on the top of the fountain. “So... she's like a Dryad then?”

“More like a patron goddess, and she's probably talking with Waylan or seeing to the mess in the basement by now.” Nico's foot twitched when she hit an overly sore spot. “Sorry. We've probably got some extra clothes that'll fit you.. and shoes.” Mary set the cup she used back on the rim and patted Nico on the shoulder. “Stay here and finish that cup, I'll go get some bandages.”

“You... shot exploding arrows....” Nico had blinked, mind finally beginning to click back into place.

Marry just laughed as she left. “Yup!”

The events of the last few hours continued to process, less and less of it seeming to be a hallucination. To his left, Ethan kept Alabaster propped upright and held the cup for him. The younger of the two was barely awake and mumbling something about “the butcher of the tainted” and pleading for Ethan not to ask any more questions about the name.

Ethan had given up once he'd leaned Alabaster against the rim of the fountain, finally passed out, then sighed himself as he turned his attention on Nico.

“You... you need to learn how to fight.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bwahaha, I'm loving newbie Nico, he'll fall into that angry little kid from Battle of the Labyrinth, don't worry.... just he's in shock right now and still processing.


End file.
